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ALTAI -HIMALAYA
ALTAI-
HIMALAYA
A Travel Diary
By NICHOLAS ROERICH
WITH TWENTY REPRODUCTIONS
FROM PAINTINGS
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
NEW YORK MCMXXIX
Copyright, 1929, by
CORONA MUNDI, INTERNATIONAL
ART CENTER, INC.
All Rights Reserved
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
Zuloaga, visiting the Roerich Museum in New York, in an
interview for the press, said: “In the creative art of Roerich, I
see that which I have always felt. Here is evidence that from
Russia some force is coming to the world — I cannot measure, I
cannot impart what it is — but I realize its approach: Roerich —
great artist, great worker; his creation expresses proud and lofty
sentiments.”
Boris Grigorief has said: “His name is on the lips of the entire
world. Before me is the magazine, Studio, dedicated to our
great artist, and I am proud when I think that Roerich is so
able to arouse the human soul.”
In the Foreword (1925), Serge Whitman, valuing the inter-
national significance of the last work of Roerich, wrote: “We who
search the paths of international understanding and the structure
of universal peace, must look upon Roerich as the apostle and
forerunner of this new world of all nations.”
Ivan Narodny, in a recent article, “Prophet of Universal
Beauty,” said: “Leonardo da Vinci was at the same time a painter,
an architect and an engineer. The same can be said of Roerich —
he is not only a towering painter, but a profound philosopher
and a distinguished scientist.”
An extensive literature has been dedicated to Nicholas Roerich.
Information of his life and works up to 1916, may be had in the
monographs of A. Rostislavov (1918); A. Mantl (1910); A. Gui-
doni (1915); N. Selivanova (1923); in articles of A. Benois
(1916); S. Makovsky (1906-16); S. Yaremitch (1916); L.
Andreyef (1918); A. Remisoff (1916); M. Voloshin, G. Bottom-
ley, S. Gorodetzky, W. Baltrushaitis, I. Lazarevsky, I. Takeuchi,
[v]
V. Pica, L. Vauxelles, Arsene Alexandre, A. Koiransky, B.
Grigorief, O. Dymoff, M. Fokine, Denis Roche, Sir Claude
Phillips, Leo Feigenberg, O. M. Sayler, C. Brinton, V. Ritter,
M. Martin and others.
Special issues of magazines were dedicated to Roerich’s art
by Mir lss\ustva; lss\ustvo; Vessi; Zolotoye Runo; L’Art
Decoratif, Paris; Studio, London; The Touchstone, New York;
Colour, London; Gazette des Beaux Arts, Paris; Volne Smeri,
Prague; Dilo, Prague; Art and Archceology, Washington; and
many others.
Information about his various foreign works is strewn in
many series of editions: Studio, London; International Studio,
New York; Emporium, Milan; Les Arts et les Artistes, Paris;
Volne Smeri and Dilo, Prague; Deutsche Kunst, Darmstadt; The
Review, Calcutta; and many other Hindu, Japanese and Ameri-
can magazines.
The large monograph, “Himalaya,” published by Brentano’s,
New York (1926), gives 100 reproductions of Roerich’s paintings
of 1923-25. The monograph published by Corona Mundi, Inter-
national Art Center, in 1923, also “Nicholas Roerich,” published
by Editions de la Revue du Vrai et du Beau, as well as Roerich’s
works “Adamant” (1923) and “Paths of Blessing” (1925), ac-
quaint us with his consciousness in all its phases.
For four and a half years, Roerich in an unrepeatable circle,
encompassed Central Asia. Starting in the Himalayas so beloved
of him, he courageously brought his Expedition through all
obstacles again to the same place in the foothills of these highest
mountains of the world.
The entire series of paintings which he made on that mem-
orable journey and the published works of the members of the
Expedition will reflect its valuable results. Now the opportunity
is offered to read Roerich’s travel notes, those “thoughts upon
horseback and in the tent,” induced by the contemplation of lofty
[vi]
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
mountains and boundless deserts wrapped in the inviolable secrecy
of the East.
What is this book? Is it a scientific treatise? Obviously not,
because such a work is still to be written. Is it the diary of a
geographer or an ethnologist? No. It is the Symphony of
Asia. Some such phrase would characterize it best.
In conclusion it may not be amiss to quote a fragment of one
of Roerich’s letters sent from Little Tibet, to Corona Mundi,
International Art Center, in 1925, in which he indicates his
program and purpose:
“Friends, it would have been far easier for me to have set down
the entire journey in all its fairy-tale of ‘fantasy,’ which colors
every peak and every desert space with unprecedented truth.
But then some will be incredulous, as he who sleeps in dark-
ness does not believe in the sun. Is it possible that the sun is
already rising? Facts are needed. I am writing only facts. I am
setting down fragments of the thoughts as they now live in
the East. I am setting down distances and tales, as they are
now related. But even in facts, the Sunrise comes from the
East. . . .”
As the first news from the Roerich American Expedition, after
its lengthy wanderings in Tibet, came this telegram on May
24, 1928:
“Roerich American Expedition after many hardships has
reached Himalayas. Thus ended big Central Asiatic Expedition.
Many artistic and scientific results. Already sent several series
of paintings to New York. Hope last sending from Mongolia
safely reached you. Many observations regarding Buddhism.
“Expedition started in 1924 from Sikhim through Punjab,
Kashmir, Ladak, Karakorum, Khotan, Kashgar, Karashahr, Ur-
umchi, Irtysh, Altai Mountains, Oyrot region, Mongolia, Central
Gobi, Kansu, Tsaidam, Tibet.
[vii]
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
“Peaceful American flag encircled Central Asia. Everywhere
warmly greeted except Khotan and Lhasa Governments. Further
movement Expedition from Khotan assisted by British Consul at
Kashgar. On Tibetan territory have been attacked by armed
robbers. Superiority of our firearms prevented bloodshed. In
spite of Tibetan passports Expedition forcibly stopped by Tibetan
authorities on Oct. 6, two days north of Nagchu. With inhuman
cruelty Expedition has been detained for five months at altitude
of 15,000 feet in summer tents amidst severe cold about 40
degrees below Centigrade.
“Expedition suffered from want of fuel and fodder. During
stay in Tibet five men, Mongols, Buriats and Tibetans died and
ninety caravan animals perished. By order of authorities all
letters and wires addressed to Lhasa Government and Calcutta
British authorities seized. Forbidden to speak to passing cara-
vans. Forbidden to buy foodstuffs from population. Money
and medicines came to an end. The presence of three women in
caravan and medical certificate about heart weakness not taken
into consideration. With great difficulties on March 4, Expedi-
tion started southward. All nine European members of the
Expedition safe. Courageously bore hardships of exceptionally
severe Winter. Greetings.”
[viii]
CONTENTS
PAGE
Publisher’s Note v
Introduction by Claude Bragdon xiii
PART
I. India (1924) 1
II. SlKHIM (1924) 31
III. Pir-Panzal (1925) 69
IV. Ladak (1925) 83
V. Lamayuru-Hemis (1925) 100
VI. Leh — Karakorum — Khotan (1925) 125
VII. Khotan (1925-1926) 160
VIII. Takla Makan — Karashahr (1926) 193
IX. Karashahr — Dzungaria (1926) 255
X. Altai (1926) 334
XI. Mongolia (1926-1927) 351
XII. Tibet (1927-1928) 3 66
Glossary 395
[lx]
ILLUSTRATIONS
Reproductions from Paintings by Nicholas Roerich in the
Roerich Museum, New Yor/^
Portrait of Nicholas Roerich by Sviatoslaw Roerich . Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
Commands of Rigden Japo 2
Tibetan Lama 26
Sanctuaries and Citadels 58
Confucius the Just ( Banners of the East Series ) 88
Lamayuru Monastery ( Lada\ ) ( Maitreya Series ) 104
Leh, Ladak ( Maitreya Series ) 120
Karakorum Pass 140
Signs of Maitreya ( Maitreya Series ) 168
Guardian of the Entrance 190
Sacred Caves ( Maitreya Series ) 236
Tibetan Woman 264
Mongolian Lama 298
Oirot, Messenger of the White Burkhan ( Banners of the East
Series) 336
Tenpei-Jal-Tsin Baishin, City of the Ja-Lama in the Central Gobi 356
Tsam in Mongolia 366
Sharugen Kham, Tibet 376
Chatu Gompa on the Brahmaputra 378
Chungtu Royal Monastery Near Saskya 380
Shekar Dzong (Near Shigatse) 390
[xi]
INTRODUCTION
On May 8, 1923, Nicholas Roerich left America for India, and
he has been wandering about in remote, dangerous and seldom-
visited parts of Asia ever since. “Altai-Himalaya” is the record
of his mission, just as his series of pictures “Tibetan Paths,”
“Banners of the East,” “His Country,” are records in terms of
paint. But “Altai-Himalaya,” though penned on horseback and
in the tent, under conditions the most difficult, is as much more,
and as much richer than the ordinary diary of travel, as his
paintings of the Himalayas are more than a literal transcription
of some of the earth’s most magnificent scenery. For in whatever
medium Roerich works, or in whatever he is expressing, there
shines forth not only the artist, but the embodied intelligence —
the man, the whole character of the man. Though sincere and
simple, it is a character compounded of such unusual elements
as to be on its esoteric side uncomprehended.
Now, “esoteric” is to most ears either a meaningless or a hateful
word: what do I mean by it in this connection? I should per-
form for Roerich an ill service if I failed to answer such a ques-
tion, because it would be to avoid mentioning what seems to
me the very raison d’etre of his journey, his art, his life. And
yet how is it possible to make intelligible or even plausible what
I have in mind? Without attempting to elucidate, explain or
justify it, therefore, I shall simply say that there is a tenable point
of view from which one may regard Roerich as an envoy of those
powers which preside over the life and evolution of humanity
in the same sense that gardeners preside over a garden: that he
journeys into desolate and forbidden lands for the fulfillment
of a mission the purpose of which will increasingly reveal itself.
[ xiii ]
INTRODUCTION
Whether one believes this or not, it would be hard to imagine a
better ambassador of good will from the West to the East, for
the reason that although he represents the summit of European
accomplishment and culture, Roerich is deeply Oriental in his
temperament, sympathies and point of view.
One has only to look at him to see — or, if you must have it so,
imagine — the reincarnated Eastern sage. Certain it is that in
India, in Tibet, in Ladak (Little Tibet), and in the white fast-
nesses of Siberia he was received with an honor, accorded a
confidence and even an affection, quite different from the ordi-
nary attitude of these peoples toward strangers, which has the
reputation of being covertly or openly hostile. Roerich and his
caravan encountered frustration and hostility, too, and in full
measure, but it is interesting to note how exactly in proportion
to the spiritual development of the various peoples he encoun-
tered was their response to his unique quality, and their recog-
nition of the unprecedented nature of his mission among them.
This book was written “in the saddle,” more literally than
figuratively. There is a certain vividness, immediacy, authenticity
about it for this reason, giving the reader a sense of actual par-
ticipation perhaps impossible to be imparted in any other way,
together with intimate glimpses of the workings of the author’s
mind in the presence of sublime scenery, new human types,
strange manners and customs, and under the assaults of hardship,
danger, and the stresses and strains of exploration in almost un-
trodden lands. Roerich is a man of original, strong and definite
personality, of which everything he does bears the stamp. His
expressions are themselves revealing, eloquent — not only of him-
self, but of the thing he is attempting to describe. The one-, two-
and three- word sentences, the subjects without predicates — they
have been suffered to remain just as he wrote them because they
have so much the merit of the sketch, the jotting, put down in
[ xiv ]
INTRODUCTION
the moment of that “first fine careless rapture” which in a more
premeditated form of art is likely to leak away.
This is a book whose surface exists for the sake of its depth,
and even for concealing from all but the most penetrating, what
that depth contains, as surfaces sometimes do. But in order to
give you every possible advantage, and for your further enlight-
enment upon Roerich’s antecedent accomplishments and life, I
shall devote the remainder of this essay to what I have learned
and know of Roerich, and what I think of him.
In the history of the fine arts, certain individuals have appeared
from time to time whose work has a unique, profound and indeed
a mystical quality which differentiates them from their con-
temporaries, making it impossible to classify them in any known
category or to ally them with any school, because they resemble
themselves only — and one another, like some spaceless and time-
less order of initiates. Such were Leonardo, Rembrandt, Diirer,
Blake, and, in other fields, Beethoven and Balzac; such also,
in our own times and in a lesser way, were Rodin, Ryder and
Burne-Jones, for their work shows flashes of that daemonic and
eerie beauty which is the sign whereby they may be identified as
belonging to that mythical mystic brotherhood.
Roerich, in his life, in his character and in his art reveals him-
self as a member of this fraternity. For thirty-five years — since
the time of his first exhibition in Russia — he has been going up
and down the world — Europe, America, Asia — absorbing the
auras of diverse peoples, making pilgrimages to remote places,
and always and everywhere scattering wisdom, planting seeds
of beauty, some of which have sprung up, flowered, and scattered
seeds of their own.
In Russia, as secretary of the Society for the Encouragement
of Arts, and later as director of the school of that society, he was
an important agent in organizing and coordinating that native,
new and powerful impulse which in painting, in music, in the
[xv]
INTRODUCTION
drama and in the dance later spread throughout the civilized world :
for it is not too much to say that everything which now goes
by the name of modernism had Russia for its cradle. It is sig-
nificant in this connection that Stanislavsky enlisted Roerich’s
aid in the Moscow Art Theatre, that Stravinsky, dedicated to him
the Sacre dn Printemps, for which Roerich designed the original
mise-en-scene, and that Andriev, Gorky, Mestrovic, Zuloaga,
Tagore and others throughout the world who represent the
newness, have paid him the tribute of their homage and their
praise.
Coming to America with an exhibition of his paintings, at
the invitation of the Chicago Art Institute, Roerich immediately
took steps to resume and repeat the work he had inaugurated
in Russia, that of uniting the arts, and thus uniting men through
beauty, for he believed, as many others are coming to believe,
that beauty is the universal and true solvent whereby racial and
national animosities may be dissolved. To this end he founded,
with the help of friends, a school in which all of the fine arts
were to be taught, under the title of Master Institute of United
Arts, and a year later he established Corona Mundi, an Inter-
national Art Center. The school passed through those vicissi-
tudes which usually beset enterprises of this character in a
civilization such as ours, the best image of which would be a
rush-light in a wind-swept darkness — but it survived, and has
to-day a permanent home on Riverside Drive, New York. Other
vast outlines, sketched by Roerich at this time, have not been
filled in: they include Cor Ardens, an affiliation of the creators
of beauty everywhere throughout the world, and Alatas, an inter-
national, non-commercial publishing association for the inter-
change and dissemination of new and constructive ideas through
the mediumship of the “art preservative.”
I mention these enterprises to show the vast sweep of Roerich’s
vision, to indicate his function as a prophet and a pioneer, clearly
[xvi]
INTRODUCTION
foreseeing and quietly planning a better order in a world still
in the grip of its so recent terrible nightmare, not yet risen from
a bed drenched with blood and stained by tears.
Should his prophecies come true, and should his dreams of
binding humanity into a brotherhood through beauty materialize,
it is for this that he will doubtless be most honored and longest
remembered, but to us, his contemporaries, he is naturally best
known as a painter of hauntingly beautiful pictures. These
are of all kinds and on a vast variety of subjects, but in general
they represent nature strained through a mystical consciousness
— the light that is on sea and land translated, by some potent
magic, into the light that never was on sea or land. Roerich
satisfies the idealist without affronting the realist. Mukerji, the
Hindu novelist and poet, remarked to a friend that if he wanted
to know how the Himalayas impressed a beholder, he should
see Roerich’s paintings of them, because along with a true render-
ing of their form and color, something of their spirit was com-
municated too.
After a brief sojourn in America he forsook the ordered and
easy life of cities, and unappalled by the rigors, dangers and
difficulties of such a quest, he set out for Asia, “trailing clouds of
glory” as he went, so to speak, in the shape of paintings of the
Grand Canyon, the Santa Fe country, the Pacific, India and the
Far East. The culmination of his life work, up to the present,
is in those groups of paintings named by him “The Tibetan
Path,” “Himalaya,” and “Banners of the East.” These are
freighted with mystical meanings which, even though unintel-
ligible to all save the initiated, yet act upon the unenlightened
consciousness as does perfume upon the senses, or as music upon
the emotions. It is not that Roerich attempts to be deliberately
cryptic — on the contrary, a great deal of his symbolism is almost
naive in its simplicity— but the average mind so resents the very
idea of esotericism, that it closes itself to a certain extent.
[xvii ]
INTRODUCTION
Roerich’s symbolism, as I say, requires no glossary, possessing
the characteristics of directness and universality. An example
of his general method is seen in that painting of what he names
the Messiah series, entitled, “The Miracle.” It represents a titanic
valley, not unlike the Grand Canyon, a world primeval, stark,
rock-strewn, without visible flora or fauna. Prominent in the
foreground is a natural bridge, and over this bridge passes a
road. On the near side of the bridge are a few human figures,
prostrate before the miracle of a great radiance coming from
behind the bridge, the aura of some supernatural presence whose
figure is not yet visible. Here is a simple, natural symbology
subject perhaps to different interpretations, but none of them
contradictory. Considered objectively, the picture is simply a
dramatization of that expectancy of a messiah which is so general
nowadays, and it holds forth the healing promise, that though
his presence is not seen, his aura brightens the darkness, his
influence is already felt. Considered from the standpoint of
subjectivity, the denuded valley might symbolize the condition of
the soul after trials and purgations; the road, the “small old
path” to freedom and perfection; the bridge, that stage on that
path where the transit is effected between the lower and the
higher consciousness; the prostrate figures, those “qualities” which
must be redeemed and “carried over,” awe-struck at the miracle
of the felt approach of the “golden person” bringing release
from bondage through the shining of the inward light.
But the great merit of this picture, freighted as it is with
meaning (and that of others of its class), lies in its beauty of
color and composition. The mystic and metaphysician in Roerich
never submerge the artist, with the result that when he permits
himself the use of symbols he is still lyrical and not literary:
his pictures are not sermons, but songs. “The Miracle,” despite
the fact that it conveys a message, is not a morality so much
as a delight to the visual sense, abounding in spatial rhythms
[ xviii ]
INTRODUCTION
and color harmonies as fine and subtle as those of some priceless
old yellow Chinese rug. The “story” is there, but the final
indelible impression is one of beauty, and this is as it should be,
for in the hierarchy of trades and talents the creative artist is
nearest to the throne of God.
Of Roerich’s archaeological pictures I shall not speak, nor of his
pioneer work in the theatre, important as that has been, because
I feel that these things, which at one time absorbed his mind
and dominated his consciousness have since become far less
important to him than what I shall call his mystical quest. One
has the feeling that in everything he does he is seeking the hidden
truth, the unrevealed beauty, the Lost Word, in point of fact.
Like some mighty indefatigable hunter, armed not with a gun,
but with his pen and brushes, he stalks his quarry across oceans,
rivers, mountains, though knowing all the while that the thing
he is seeking is in himself. Both in his writing and in his paint-
ing he permits us to participate in this adventure, and thus draw
nearer to that truth which is beauty, and that beauty which
is truth.
Claude Bragdon
1 1
ALTAI -HIMALAYA
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Part I
INDIA
(1924)
Siani glides by. Here are the Wells of Abraham. Here are
the “Twelve Apostles” — fantastic little islands. Here is Jeddah,
the gateway to Mecca. The Moslems on the steamer are praying
toward the East, where, behind the pink sands, is hidden their
center. To the right the boundaries of Nubia are lying like an
ancient cornice. The hulks of wrecked vessels cleave to the reefs.
The Red Sea can be merciless as can the Arabian sandstorms.
Not in vain does the fiery finger of the Stromboli Volcano
threaten and warn by night. But now in the winter the Red Sea
is blue, not hot, and the dolphins leap in mad merriment. In a
fairylike design lie the Arabian Bays — Korya Morya.
The Japanese do not lose an opportunity to visit the Pyramids.
This nation does not waste time. One should see how quickly
and sharply their field-glasses move about. And how persistently
practical are their questions: Nothing superfluous. This is not
the vacant touring of tired Europe. “Well, now finally we will
come to an understanding,” says the Japanese in a businesslike
way without any sentimentality. And may this businesslike
attitude be the guarantee of cooperation!
In Cairo in the mosque sat a boy of seven or eight and chant-
ingly read the lines of the Koran. One could not pass by without
noticing his penetrating striving. And in the walls of that same
mosque was boldly imbedded the cannon-ball of Napoleon. And
[1]
that same conqueror of empires broke the image of the Great
Sphinx.
But if the sphinx of Egypt is mutilated, the sphinx of Asia
remains safeguarded by the great deserts. The treasures of the
heart of Asia are preserved and its hour has come.
Ancient Ceylon — the Lanka of the Ramayana. But where
are the palaces and pagodas? It is strange. In Colombo we
are met by the Swiss Consul. The policeman is Irish. A French
peddler. A Greek with post-cards. Dutch tea-peddlers. An
Italian chauffeur. But where are the Singhalese? Have they all
emigrated to Europe?
The first aspects of Buddha and Maitreya reveal themselves in
the Kelaniya Temple near Colombo. The powerful images
are guarded in the dusk of the temple. Hinayana prides itself
before many-varied Mahayana on the refinement and purity of
its philosophy. The great restored stupa near the temple re-
minds one of the ancient foundation of this place. But, after
all, only in fragments do Colombo and Ceylon recall the ancient
Lanka of Hanuman, Rama, Ravana and other giants. And for
Buddhism, Ceylon is an important site. Many temples and
palaces guard the fragments of one of the best periods of the
Teaching. Outside of the ruins which are known, numerous
unsuspected treasures are buried under the roots of powerful
jungles. That which has remained above the soil gives an idea
of the past splendor of the former mighty city. You do not
need to search for the places. They proclaim themselves. But
exploration can only give results if it is carried on in a broad
measure. One must approach such ruins fully fortified, as one
palace alone has 900 chambers. Ceylon is an important site.
• • • • •
The public baths near the bitter-sweet mountain, Lavinia, do
not suggest the domain of ancient giants. Slender palms shame-
[2]
INDIA
facedly bend down to the spray of the tide. Like skeletons
stand the fragments of Anuradhapura; consider that Anurad-
hapura is not entirely explored. And Adam’s Peak is not enticing.
By the remains of Anuradhapura one may judge how powerful
was Borobodur in Java.
• • • • •
And again, ceaselessly, are gliding by the faces of our fellow
travelers: the Japanese, with whom we wept over the remains
of the Cairo Pyramids, which have passed from a valiant history
to become the curio-museum of a greedy guide.
Is it really India? A thin shore line. Meager little trees.
Crevices of dessicated soil. So does India hide its face from the
south. And the black Dravidians as yet do not remind us of the
Vedas and Mahabharata.
Multicolored is Madura with the remains of Dravidian strata.
All the life, all the nerve of the exchange, was near the temple.
In the passages of the temple are the bazaar, the court, the
sermon, the reciter of the Ramayana, the gossip, and the sacred
elephant who wanders in freedom ; and the camels of the religious
processions. The ingenious stone carving of the temple is colored
with the present-day crude colors. Sarma, the artist, sorrows
over it. But the city council did not listen to him and colored
the temple according to their own plan. Sarma is saddened
that so much of fine understanding is gone and has as yet been
replaced only by indifference.
He warns us not to go far in our European attire because some
elements of the population may be hostile. And yet Madura is a
city of 1,000,000. Sarma inquires about the condition of artists in
Europe and America. He is genuinely surprised that the artists
of Europe and America can live by the labor of their hands. It
is incomprehensible to him that art can provide a means of liveli-
[3]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
hood. With them, the occupation of artist is the most profitless
one. There are almost no collectors. Sarma himself, tall, in
white garments, with sad, calm speech, awaits something better,
and knows all the burden of the present.
There was no possibility of a meeting with Tagore. Strangely
such things happen in life. In London, the poet found us.
Then in America we succeeded in meeting him in New York;
and he also met George in Boston. But in India itself we did
not meet! We could not go to Bolpur and Tagore could not
be in Calcutta. He already was preparing for his tour in China.
There were many curious occurrences. In Calcutta we tried
to find Tagore. We thought that in his native city his name
would be known on every corner. We took a motor and
requested to be taken straight to the poet Tagore, and in vain
we rode for three hours through the city. First we were taken
to the Maharajah Tagore. Then a hundred policemen and
peddlers and passing Babus sent us into the most varied alleys.
Finally six volunteer guides were hanging on our motor. And
so we ourselves, in this bushy manner, finally remembered the
name of Dwarka nath Tagore Street where the house of Tagore
was situated.
It is said that when Tagore received the Nobel prize, a depu-
tation from Calcutta came to him, but the poet severely asked
them: “Where were you before? I remain the same person,
and the prize has not added anything to me.” Greetings to
Tagore!
We met the relations of our friend Tagore — Abanindranath
Tagore, brother of Rabindranath, artist head of the Bengal School.
Gogonendranath Tagore, nephew of the poet, also an artist, sec-
retary of the Bengal Society of Artists. Now he imitates the
modernists. A splendid artist is Kumar Haidar, present Director
[4]
INDIA
of the School in Lucknow. Hard is the life of the Hindu
artist. Much resolution is needed in order not to abandon this
thorny path. Greetings to the artists of India! Why is it that
in all countries of the world the condition of scientists and
artists is so precarious?
Thorny also is the way of the Hindu scientists. Here, before
us is an example, in a struggling young scientist, a biologist and
pupil of Sir Jagadis Bose. He began his laboratory in the name
of Vivekananda. In his peaceful little house above the laboratory
is a room dedicated to the relics of Ramakrishna, Vivekananda
and other teachers of this group. This young man, pupil of the
closest pupil of Vivekananda, carries into life the principles of
this master, who fearlessly proclaimed his evocation to action and
knowledge. In this little top chamber he formulates his thoughts,
surrounded by the things which belonged to his beloved leaders.
One remembers vividly the portraits of Ramakrishna and his wife.
Both faces impress one with their purity and striving. We sat in
complete silence near this memorial hearth. Greetings!
Who can explain why the path of knowledge and beauty is the
most difficult? Why does humanity accept with such hesitation
all that is predestined? It is therefore the greater joy, to see in
India, the signs of an ascent of knowledge and art. It is joyful
to see that in India the number of schools is increasing and that
legions of new enlightened workers for science and beauty are
ready to serve in the victory of evolution.
In Calcutta, not far behind the city, are two monuments to
Ramakrishna. On one shore, Dakshineswar, the Temple where
long lived Ramakrishna. Almost opposite, across the river, is
the Mission of Ramakrishna, the mausoleum of the teacher him-
self, of his wife, of Vivekananda, and a collection of many mem-
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
orable objects. Vivekananda dreamt that here should be a real
Hindu University. Vivekananda took care of this place. There
is a great peace here and it is with difficulty that one realizes
oneself so near to Calcutta with all the terror of its bazaars
and confusion.
We met Sister Christine, almost the only living pupil of Vive-
kananda. Her useful work was broken up by the war. And
now, after the lapse of many years, Sister Christine has returned
again to the old site. The people are changed. The conscious-
ness is consumed with local problems. And it is not easy for
Sister Christine to find contact with the new waves of Hindu
life.
On the memorable day of Ramakrishna, as many as half a
million of his admirers gather.
• • • • •
From the purest to the most hideous: In special streets of
Bombay, behind bars, sit the women prostitutes. In this living
merchandise which clings close to the bars, in these outstretched
hands, in their calls, is contained the whole terror of bodily
desecration. And a Hindu Sadhu passes through with his burning
incense in order to purify the spot!
When we entered the Chartered Bank of India — out of the
door there came to meet us the sacred cow; and how strikingly
amusing was this correlation of bank and sacred cow!
• • • • •
The tigers roar in Jaipur. The Maharajah has forbidden any
one to shoot them. In Golta Pass two tribes of monkeys are at
war. The guide arranges a battle for a most reasonable fee.
Nowadays all battles may be arranged thus easily!
• • • • •
The Fakirs are seated, “charming” the old, half-living toothless
cobras. The pitiful Hatha-yogi is whirling in the bazaar, making
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INDIA
the most gymnastic contortions for the purification of his spirit.
“The spiritualist” offers to make the carriage move without
horses, but to do this it is necessary “that there should not be
one cloud in the sky.”
And along with this is a fantastic and romantic fragment
of old Rajputana — Amber where the princesses looked down from
their balconies upon the tournaments of their suitors ; where every
gate, every little door, astonishes one by the correlations of its
beauty. Near here is the penetrating and fantastic Golta Pass
which could not be imagined in any fantasy — only the “play”
of life can accumulate such unexpected creations. And here also
is Jaipur with its fairylike astrological observatory and with the
charm of an unspoiled Hindu Moslem city. Fatehpur-Sikri,
Agra — rare chips of a departed culture. And the frescoes of
Ajanta are already unsafe.
• • • • •
All the remains of the constructions of Akbar have a veil of
seeming sadness. Here the great Unifier of his country buried his
best visions so misunderstood by his contemporaries. In Fatehpur-
Sikri, he conversed with his wise Birbal, and with the few
who had attained his level. Here he built the temple of universal
knowledge. Here he lost his few friends and foresaw that the
welfare of the State created by him, would not be preserved.
And Agra and Fatehpur-Sikri are full of a kind of limitless
sorrow. Akbar knew how the well-being which he bestowed
on his people would be pillaged. Perhaps he already knew how
the last emperor of India would live to the middle of the nine-
teenth century, peddling the furniture of his palace and chipping
from the walls of his palace in Delhi the fragments of mosaics.
• • • • •
With all the dustiness gathered by time, the architecture of
Benares still retains its charm. All the mixture of form of the
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
old Hindu, Dravidian and Moslem, can give new solutions to
the unprejudiced architect. One can easily imagine a combina-
tion of the many-storied Tibetan structure, with the comforts of
an American sky-scraper. One can draw a parallel from the
palaces of Benares to the palaces of Venice and to a livable
private dwelling. One can develop the style of American pueblos,
with the newest understanding, as is being done in Santa Fe.
A Hindu complained to me of the lack of Hindu architects.
I said to him, “If there are no architects, let an artist develop an
idea, but let him proceed from out of the harmony of the folk
consciousness combined with the character of its nature.” One
cannot defile the whole world with a uniform building. One
cannot make out of Java a Swedish Stockzund. And one cannot
visualize Comanches and Apaches in the houses of Boston. Ap-
propriateness must be maintained.
On the shores of the Ganges, a gray-bearded man, cupping his
palms like a chalice, offers his entire possessions to the rising
sun. A woman quickly telling her rhythms performs her morn-
ing Pranayama on the shore. In the evening she may again be
there, sending upon the stream of the sacred river a garland
of lights as prayers for the welfare of her children. And these
fireflies of the woman’s soul, prayer-inspired, travel long upon
the dark watery surface. Beholding these offerings of the spirit
one can even forget the stout priests of the golden temples. We
are minded of other things. We recall those Yogis who send
into space their thoughts, thus constructing the coming evolu-
tion. Not the usual priests these, but active hermits; they are
bringing our thought near to the energy which will be revealed
by scientists in the very near future.
Gigantic stupas of Buddhism — burial mounds surrounded by a
fence. The same Kurgans of all centuries and nations. The
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INDIA
Kurgans of Upsala in Sweden; Russian Kurgans of Volhov on
the way to Novgorod; the Steppe Kurgans of Scythians, sur-
rounded by stones; all tell the legends of the same solemn crema-
tions which have been described by the skillful Arabian traveler,
Ibn Fadlan. Everywhere, the same purifying conflagrations.
Everywhere, much incense, rose water and fragrant sandal-
wood. Hence the smoke from the bodies in the Burning Ghats
of Benares is not turbid. And in Tibet, also, cremation is used.
Regard the gentle child games of the Orient — and listen to the
complicated rhythms of the chants and soft music. There are
not evident the profanities of the West.
The Maharajah of Mysore is awakened with special songs —
songs of beginning and of end.
In Madura in a crowded alley, an old man models the forms
of the “sacred images.” He is the last old man — with him dies
this knowledge. Thus is dying the past. So is approaching the
future.
On the fields are standing, in circles, the figures of white
ceramic horses. Whence are these resplendent mounts? Upon
them, the subtle bodies of women are said to go galloping
through the nights. Backs, which are doubled during the day
in household tasks, at night are made erect in flight. Shall one
say it is a goat’s leap to the gathering of witches ? No, rather is it
the flight of the Valkyries — the virgins of the air — the leap
toward a wondrous future.
Each day a woman’s hand molds the sand at the entrance
of the house into a special design. This is the symbol that within
the house all is well, and there is neither sickness, death nor
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
discord. If there be no happiness in the house then the hand
of the woman becomes stilled. A seeming shield of beauty is
placed before the house by the hand of the woman at the benevo-
lent hour. And little girls in schools early are being taught a
variety of designs for the signs of happiness. An inexplicable
beauty lives in this custom of India.
• • • • •
Vivekananda called the women of India to work and to free-
dom. He also asked the so-called Christians, “If you so love
the teaching of Jesus why do you not follow it?” So spoke
the pupil of Ramakrishna who passed through the substance of
all teachings and learned through life “not to deny.” Vive-
kananda was not merely an industrious “Swami” — something
lion-like rings in his letters. How he is needed now!
• • • • •
“Buddhism is the most scientific and most cooperative teach-
ing,” says the Hindu biologist, Bose. It is a joy to hear how this
truly great savant who found his way to the mysteries of plant
life speaks about the Vedanta, Mahabharata, and about the poetry
of the legends of the Himalaya. Only true knowledge can find
the merited place for all existing things.
And accompanying the voice of the savant, simple and com-
prehensive, the silvery tones of an electric apparatus tinkle out
the pulse of the life of the plants, reopening pages of the world’s
knowledge, long since sealed.
Bose’s mother in her day sold all her jewels in order to give
her son an education. The scientist, in demonstrating “His king-
dom,” says: “Here are the children of the rich in luxurious con-
ditions. See how they become puffed and baggy. They need
a good storm to bring them back to healthy normalcy.” Know-
ing the pulse of the plant world, the scientist approaches whole-
somely all the manifestations of life. He values highly Timir-
yaseff’s review of his works. One of Bose’s best books was
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INDIA
written on the heights of the Punjab in Mayavati — in the shrine
of Vivekananda. Vivekananda departed too soon.
Bose and Tagore — noble images of India!
The frescoes of Ajanta, the powerful Trimurti of Elephanta,
and the gigantic stupa in Sarnath, all speak of other ancient times.
And this former beauty also glimmers in the fine and slender
silhouette of a woman who carries her eternal water — water which
feeds the hearth.
And the well, as in biblical times, remains the central spot of
the whole population.
In the very backyard, in a tiny bed of meager flowers, rests
a small homely image of Ganeshi, elephant of happiness. The
family of Hindu coolies living in the shanty offers to him its
last grains of rice. Not much happiness has this image brought
to them.
Against the evidence of such refined values as are seen in
Ramakrishna, Rabindranath Tagore, Sir Jagadis Bose, one cannot
become reconciled to that which still constitutes the contents of
the temples. Here is a phallic cult — Lingam in Elephanta. Up
to now in the sanctuaries of this cult are seen the traces of fresh
offerings. From the ancient wisdom we know that “Linga is the
vessel of knowledge” and we know the scientific explanation
from times immemorial of this wise distribution of energy. But
now the basis of this worship is forgotten and it has degraded
into superstition.
Another ugly spectacle! In a golden temple of Benares, before
us, was led a white little goat. She was led into the sanctuary.
There evidently she was approved of because in a little while,
frantically protesting, she was hurriedly dragged before us. In a
minute, she was stretched out on the threshold of the temple
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
and the broad knife cut off her head. It was difficult to believe
that a sacred action had taken place! The meat of the goat
evidently went for food, because prfests do not partake of any
meat except that of offered sacrificial animals. And such animals
the population evidently brings each day. The teaching which
sanctioned the priests, evidently pictured them as quite different.
Even their appearance is undecorative and they cannot guard the
beauty of the symbols of knowledge. As long as the rule of
castes is not comprehended properly the country cannot develop.
During our stay we read of several difficult family dramas
founded on this ground of an evidently surviving prejudice. At
the same time, the Vedanta and Advaita clearly establish the
principle of unity. Some of the most cosmogonic parts of the
Vedas are written by women, and now in India has arrived the
epoch of the woman. Greetings to the women of India!
In spite of a superabundance of tourists they seem to know
America very little. One can understand this. The whole mass
of tourists quickly flows through the sheet-iron channels of
tourist companies, and never enters into a real and active contact
with the life of the country. In the north of India, Americans
are called “nomads” because the agencies give to these hurrying,
breathless groups a special character, completely outside of the
people’s understanding.
Out of the windows of the car glide by huddled little villages,
those original producers of all utilities and the makers of the
nation. But who cares for these primary sources?
Ramakrishna says: “In Atman there is no distinction of male
or female, of Brahmin or Kshatriya and the like.”
Ramakrishna executed the work of the sweeper to show, per-
sonally, that there were no distinctions.
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In December, we want to go into the Himalayas. We are
regarded with astonishment: “But now there is snow!” Snow
is feared. Whereas the only time for the Himalayas is from
November to February. Already in March the curtain of fog
rises. From May to August only rarely and for brief periods
can one see the entire glimmering range of snow; and truly such
grandeur is nowhere paralleled.
Just as when you are approaching the Grand Canyon of Ari-
zona, when you approach the foothills of the Himalayas you go
through the most uninteresting landscape.
And only for a moment, at dawn in Siliguri, do the white
giants appear before you as the first messengers. And again
they are hidden in the curly jungles. And again tea plantations.
And again barrack-like structures and factories. And only some-
times does a typical habitation appear and conceal itself again
as a vision from another world. There are tales about the
attacks of tigers and leopards. There are mountains of cases of
tea with the mark, Orange Pekoe. There is a Belgian mis-
sionary from Kurseong.
It becomes cool. Crowds of small coolies are repairing the
cave-ins from the last monsoon. In the frosty air one cannot
even imagine the pressure of the summer monsoon downpour
from which all nature becomes moldy. There are few birds.
Eagles are seen.
Mountains are densely covered. The view of Darjeeling itself
disappoints you. Is it necessary to seek the Himalayas in order
to find merely a corner of Switzerland? The colorful types of
the bazaar are not apparent at once, and the regular barracks
and bungalows already strike one’s eye.
We search for a house. The first information is not encour-
aging. We are assured there are no good houses. Some are
[13]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
shown to us, lacking outlook and grounds, some immersed in
the little streets of wooden country houses and fences. This
is not suitable. We want something, beyond — there before the
image of all the Himalayas, where the city orchestra does not
play its conventional tunes. “You will find nothing there!” But
we are persistent. We go ourselves, and we find an excellent
house. And calmness and solitude, and the entire chain of
Himalayas before us. And still another surprise: Just here lived
the Dalai Lama during his long flight from Lhasa. For us, this
house is just what 'is needed.
Not on one occasion only were we awakened by the chanting
and the rhythmic beats around the house. These are the lamas
who, bowing to the ground many times, marched around our
dwelling.
Somewhere the people are babbling that in this house lives a
devil which appears as a black pig. A haunted house, as we were
told. But we are not afraid of devils, and in the neighboring
village, Bhutia Basti, there are many black pigs which resemble
boars. Did not our dear monkeys who came into the bathroom
and ate the peas and flowers around the house play the part of
the devil?
There is the tiresome need of having many servants — and the
reason always the same: castes. It reaches absurdity. The porter
does not clean the path. Why? It appears that according to
caste, he is a blacksmith and has no right to take a broom into
his hand. Otherwise he will become defiled and become a
sweeper. He decides the problem in a very original fashion.
He begins to brush around the garden with five fingers, creep-
ing along the ground. The groom is from the high Kshatriya
caste and hints at his descent from a king, which did not hinder
him from mysterious operations with the horse feed. Sometimes
in the kitchen religious meetings are arranged. And the cook,
chairman of the local Ary a Samaj, persistently persuades his
[14]
listeners to something. Buddhists are not limited by caste and
are free to perform all kinds of work. They work fast, are merry,
are quick to understand and easy to adapt themselves.
There are many tales about Tibetans, the warriorlike tribe
of Kham and about the wild Goloks, who call themselves wild
“dogs.” They bring one back again even to the times of Sieg-
fried: They cement their brotherly oaths by mixing and drinking
brotherly blood. They never part with their weapons.
“His Country” begins to unfold, as the series “Banners of the
East” is begun. In June, after the first rains, all the tempera
begins to be covered with white spots of mold. One has to heat
up the place considerably in order that the mold should dry and
come off.
“His Country.” In Sikhim, itself, was one of the Ashrams
of the Mahatmas. To Sikhim, Mahatmas came on mountain
horses. Their physical presence communicates a solemn im-
portance to these parts. Of course now the Ashram has been
transferred from Sikhim. Of course now the Mahatmas have
left Sikhim. But they were here, and therefore the silver peaks
of the chain glimmer still more beautifully. . . .
Accompanied by pupils, artists and a sculptor, comes the
majestic Rinpoche from Chumbi. He walks throughout the
whole country erecting new images of Maitreya. All is being
hastened. In a long talk, the lama points out that all may
be attained only through Shambhala. For those who imagine
Shambhala as a legendary invention, this indication is a super-
stitious myth. But there are also others, fortified by more prac-
tical knowledge.
The noble Atisha, the Pillar of the teaching, walked from
India to Tibet for the purification of the teaching. The teacher
[i5l
Altai- Himalaya
passed by the retreat of Milarepa. The great hermit became
conscious of the passing procession and wishing to test the
forces of the Pillar of the teaching, appeared sitting on the end
of a blade of grass. The noble Atisha seeing this manifestation
of the hermit, came dov/n from the porte-chaise and also rose
upon the end of the next blade of grass. And when the teachers
exchanged brotherly greetings, Milarepa said: “Our knowledge
is equal, but why is the blade of grass under me slightly bent,
while under thee, it has retained its tension?” The noble Atisha
smiled: “Verily, equal is our knowledge; but I come from the
country where the Blessed Tathagata himself lived and taught,
and this consciousness raises me.”
What magnets are laid in India? Indescribable is the charm
of the children’s round dance near Madras, with its tiny Gopis
and miniature Krishna, Lei and Kupava. The best images are
strewn in the unrealized wealth.
India knows the all-penetrating power of the magnet. And
how about miracles in India, friends of the west will ask? We
will say that we have not seen “miracles,” but we have encoun-
tered every manifestation of psychic energy. If one wants to
speak about the manifestations of a “higher miraculous” power —
then it is useless to talk altogether. But to comprehend the
materially-attained development of psycho-physical energy, then
India gives even now the most remarkable manifestations. The
celebrated “evil eye” of the east exists, and the people die sub-
missively at the ordained date, if they are not able to counter-
act it by a still more greatly trained will. The transmission of
the command of will from a distance does exist. Suggestion in
any form exists in highly complicated correlations. Some mani-
festations are being performed consciously and a greater part
subconsciously through natural ability and beneficial atmospheric
[16]
INDIA
conditions. And that which is unusual for a civilized European,
that very thing for the cultured Hindu, or rather Asiatic, will be
an almost daily material occurrence.
• • • • a
Observe how remarkable are the physiological comparisons
traced by the Hindus between cosmic manifestations and the hu-
man organism. The womb, the navel, the phallus and the heart,
all these long since have been included in the fine system of
development of the universal cell. Only it is difficult to entice
the people into a discussion of this. Again is necessary that con-
fidence which cannot be established at the dining table.
During the period of Inquisition people were burned for in-
voking the teraphim. But in India even now this means of
influence is practiced. And now, in the Malabar Hills dark per-
sons may come and because of an unfulfilled request will try
to touch you, while they say to you: “Sahib will be sick” or “You
will live only ten days.” If the organism at that moment is
fatigued or if the will is weak, the command is fulfilled, and one
can remedy this only by a counter-suggestion. But often the
counteraction is less powerful or not applied in time.
The cases related about the “evil eye” provide a remarkable,
and as yet untouched, problem for the psychiatrists and crimi-
nologists. The person who has received this stroke of the will,
on the appointed day begins to lose his life energy and his power
of resistance and finally the apparatus stops. The doctors who
do not apply suggestion in time are at loss for a cure, and begin
to poison the paralyzed nervous system still more. Incipient
anaemia, a stroke of the heart or spleen, or gall bladder, nervous
spasms and choking are often the visible effects of the command
of the invading will. It is difficult to ascertain just how the nature
of the attack on the particular organs occurs; one may rather
imagine that the most feeble organ succumbs to a nervous attack.
In a small and more crude manner the same practice is apparent
[ 17]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
in Shamanism, but the gradations of the will and its applications
are entirely incomparable. It is justly pointed out that such
murder or harm by will power is far more dangerous than a
physical one. And where can one seek the limits of such sug-
gestions? In the East one sometimes hears a significant sentence:
“He shall not live.” It means one has sensed the spark of the
will-stroke.
• • • • •
Two qualities must be conceded to the English: steadfastness
and precision. For the East, both qualities are remarkable. Pre-
cision according to the ordained dates of course is absolutely
necessary because “the worst theft is the theft of some one else’s
time.” Do not be late if you wish to be respected.
It all began with the unknown traces found by the Everest
Expedition. Then in the Statesman, an English Major related
how during one of the expeditions into the region of the Hima-
layas, he encountered a strange mountain inhabitant. At sun-
rise, amidst the frosty snows, the Major walked away from the
camp and climbed the neighboring rocks. Glancing at the
near-by rocks, the Major to his astonishment beheld a tall man
almost naked, standing, leaning on a high bow. The mountain
inhabitant did not look at the Major, his attention being com-
pletely attracted by something unseen behind the curve of the
slope. And suddenly the man bent, strained himself, and by
madly dangerous leaps rushed from the rocks and disappeared.
When the Major told his people about the meeting they smiled
and said: “Sahib has seen a ‘snow’ man. They are watching the
guarded places.”
• • • • •
They tell of a recent case in Bengal. A Sadhu was traveling
in a train without a ticket. At the first station he was put out
of the train. The bells rang. The locomotive whistled and did
[18]
INDIA
not move. So it continued for some time. The passengers re-
membered the Sadhu who had been put off and demanded that
he be put back in his place. Then the train moved. This is
verily mass suggestion!
A European lady living in India entered a dense part of her
garden and became lost in a revery as to why the garden
walks were not laid out in that place. Three days later she went
there again and saw a freshly traced path, but the end of the
path was somewhat lost. She called the old gardener: “Who has
made the path?”
“Mem-Sahib wanted to have the garden path but I did not
know how to end it!”
Then the woman remembered that the completion of her
thought about the garden path was not clear.
Sir Jagadis Bose affirms that the sensitiveness of plants is com-
pletely astonishing. As the plants feel the formation of a cloud
long before it is visible to the eye, so the East feels the thought at
its inception.
In the close interrelation between the visible and the invisible,
and in the epic simplicity of their interplay, lies the charm of
India.
The Tibetan tailor is making \aftans. He takes all measure-
ments with his eye, but most astonishing is it that the \ajtan
comes out well-fitting. And all this is not done without care!
The quality of gold for the trimming, the color of the lining
and the length — all this is thought out. The local homespun
is very narrow and one is astonished how evenly they can smooth
the many seams.
[ 19]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
If we take the accredited historical data of the last century
it is astonishing how definitely the folk-consciousness was freed
from the obvious survivals of the middle ages. Those who defend
such survivals should examine these historic paths and convince
themselves and realize that what is occurring now is not acci-
dental but under rational guidance and control. He who fails
to recognize this rationality, cannot understand evolution.
In sudden support of fundamental Buddhism, the realist of
realists, Huxley says, “No one but a superficial thinker rejects the
teaching of reincarnation as nonsense. Like the teaching of
evolution itself, reincarnation has its roots in the world of reality
and is entitled to the same support commanded by every con-
sideration which evolves from analogies.”
Two beautiful characterizations of Buddhism: “As a lion un-
frightened by noises. As a wind, not to be captured by a net.
As a lotus leaf impervious to water. As a rhinoceros treading
in solitude!” — “The study and manifestation of energy in all
its forms. Energy of armament. Energy of application in action.
Energy of dissatisfaction giving birth to the eternal striving which
brings man into the cosmic rhythm.” So said Asanga.
Where, then, is the inactive pessimism? Where is the philos-
ophy of despair, as Buddhism is sometimes called by persons of
small comprehension. How many books have been written under
the false romanticism of the nineteenth century? How many
scientists, not versed in the languages, have fed their minds
with these vague sour conclusions ? And now there has appeared
again an image — Buddha, with a sword, with leonine daring,
armed with all energies, within the universal structure, cosmic
in striving.
[20]
INDIA
“Watch the movement of the stars, as one who participates in
them, and constantly consider the transmutation of one element
into another, because such a process purifies one from the grime
of earthly life.” So reflects Marcus Aurelius. So also says an
educated Hindu from out the Himalayas.
• • • • •
L. Horn writes: “With the acceptance of the teachings of evolu-
tion, the old forms of thought everywhere are crumbling. New
ideas arise in the place of outlived dogmas and we have before
us the spectacle of a general intellectual movement in a direc-
tion becoming ever more strange — parallel with eastern philos-
ophy.
“The unheard-of speed and variety of the scientific progress
current in the last fifty years cannot but call forth an equally
unprecedented hastening of thought in the broad non-scientific
circles of society. That the highest and most complete organisms
develop out of the simplest organisms; that upon one physical
basis of life stands the whole living world; that there cannot be
traced a line which divides animal and vegetable kingdoms; that
the difference between life and non-life is a difference in grada-
tion and not substance — all this already has become commonplace
in the new philosophy. After the recognition of physical evolu-
tion it is not difficult to say that the acknowledgment of psychic
evolution is only a question of time.”
The observation of the East astonishes and rejoices one. And
not the obvious power of observation which leads to a dead
stereotype; but observation, fine and silent in its substance. One
remembers how the teacher asked the newly arriving pupil to
describe a room, but the room was empty and in a vessel was
swimming only a tiny fish. In three hours the pupil wrote three
pages, but the teacher rejected him saying that about this one
little fish he could have written all his life. In technical imita-
tion is revealed the same sharp observation. In the adaptation of
[21]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
the meter of a song, in the character of a call, in movements,
you see an all-powerful culture. Somewhere the Hindus, en-
veloped in their mantles, were compared to Roman senators.
This is an inane comparison. Rather liken them to the philos-
ophers of Greece, and still better, call them the creators of the
Upanishads, Bhagavad-gita, Mahabharata. For neither Rome nor
Greece existed when India was flourishing. And the latest
excavations begin to support this indubitable deduction.
• • • • •
In the Tao Te Ching are drawn the following subdivisions
of the types of scientists: “Scientists of the highest class, on hear-
ing about Tao, seriously bring their knowledge into life. Scien-
tists of the middle grade, on hearing about Tao, sometimes
observe it. And sometimes lose it again. The scientists of the
lowest class on hearing about Tao, only laugh loudly at it.”
Lao Tze knew.
Hindus regard objects of art with fine understanding. From
a Hindu, you naturally expect an interesting approach and un-
usual remarks, and so it is. Therefore to show paintings to a
Hindu is a real joy. How captivatingly they approach art! Do
not think that they are occupied only in its contemplation. You
will be astonished by their remarks about tonality, about tech-
nique, and about the expressiveness of the line. If the observer
be long silent, do not think that he has become tired. On the
contrary this is a good sign. It means he has entered into a
mood, and one can expect from him especially interesting deduc-
tions. Sometimes he will tell you a whole parable. And there
will be nothing vulgar or crude in it. It is astonishing how
transformed are the people of the East before the creations of
art. Indeed it is more difficult for a European to enter into the
current of creation and as a rule he is less able to synthesize his
impression.
[22]
INDIA
In the epic designs of India all can be coordinated. If in the
crowd, your next neighbor should be a skeleton, pale with lep-
rosy, you are not frightened. Next to you will lean a Sadhu,
colored with blue stripes and with a head-dress made of cow
dung. You are not surprised. A Fakir with toothless cobras will
cheat you. You are smiling. The chariot of Jagernath crushes
the crowd — you are not astonished. There is a procession of
fearful Nagis of Rajputana with blades like curved fangs. You
are calm. And where are those for whose sake you have come
to India? They do not sit in the bazaars and they do not walk
in processions. And you will not enter their dwellings without
their consent. But do they really exist ? Are not leisurely authors
writing about them only for the sake of being unique? Yes,
yes, they exist, and there exists their knowledge and their skill.
And in this sharpening of human qualities is being exalted all
human substance. And no leprosy will turn you away from
India.
All that takes place at the metapsychical institute in Paris — the
experiments of Ndtzing and Richet in ectoplasm; the experi-
ments of Baraduque in the photography of physical emanations,
the works of Kotik in the exteriorization of sensitiveness and the
attempts of Beckhterev in thought-transmission at a distance —
all this is familiar to India. Only, not as unbelievable novelties,
but as laws long since known. They speak little on these themes,
because of the dearth of scientifically enlightened fellow-conver-
sationalists. The ancient method of Hinduism and Buddhism is
to open the doors to him who knocks, but not to call any one
and not to coerce any one. But the quality of the knock also
must be powerful. In the practical teaching of Buddhism, inde-
pendence of consciousness is sharply emphasized, and as its
consequence, an unconquerable forbearing and all-conquering
patience. The greatest patience will win a victory. So let the
[23]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
ignorant deniers immerse themselves in the true East to learn and
to absorb the power of containment.
• • • • •
Two characteristic episodes are related about the Tashi Lama.
When he was in India, he was asked whether he possessed any
psychic powers. The Tashi Lama silently smiled. In a short
time, though closely surrounded by guards and officers, he sud-
denly disappeared. All search was in vain. Finally, after a
considerable period of time, the officers saw him calmly sitting
in the same garden and around him were running, in fruitless
search, the guards. This incident reminds me of Gorki, who
many years ago told me that he himself saw vivid images of
Indian cities upon the blank metallic leaves of an album, which
was shown to him once in Caucasia by a Hindu. With all his
realism, Gorki absolutely affirms that he saw in vivid colors
that which the Hindu pointed out to him. Greetings to Alexei
Maximovitch !
• • e • •
Attraction by thought is astonishing. The desire was expressed
to have an old Tibetan Buddha, but this is already difficult now.
We spoke and thought among ourselves how to get it. In a few
days came a lama and brought an excellent Buddha: “The lady
wanted to have a Buddha and I am told to give the Buddha
from my house altar. I cannot sell the sacred image — accept it
as a gift.”
“But how did you know of our desire to have a Buddha ?”
“The White Tara came in a dream and told me to bring it
to you.”
And so it happens.
• • • •
Recently we read in the Statesman that the lowest castes of
India begin willingly to accept Buddhism. Rabindranath Tagore,
in a talk with Gandhi, spoke against castes. Out of the mouth
[24]
INDIA
of a Brahmin this avowal is significant. Many significant and
beautiful signs.
Special attention must be given to the Puranas — therein are
many most valuable indications: “When the sun and the moon,
and Tishya and the planet Jupiter are in one mansion, then the
Krita (Satya) age will begin.” So does the Vishnu Purana
point out the age of Maitreya.
Lamas are constantly coming to us. They spread paintings
on the lawn; and chantingly pointing with a little stick, they
relate a whole epic. The vivid colors of the paintings merge
with the natural colors of nature. The visual reactions have been
valued since long ago. A nun comes. She sits at the threshold
and throwing back her handsome head she chants her prayers.
We can only distinguish “Tra shi sho!” Altogether the ques-
tion of language is very difficult. All these mountain dialects
somewhat resemble Tibetan. But still the difference is very
great and the number of dialects of the small tribes is also great.
Finally from Lhasa comes Kung Kusho of Doring to salute the
house of the Dalai Lama. The Kung (this is a title like a duke;
remarkable is the coincidence of Conung, Kung, King) is an
important old man with a wife and daughter, round of face
like a Ukrainian; with numerous servants; on big black mules
shod with silver are high saddles and many-colored horse blan-
kets. On their foreheads they wear vivid red caps with the
image of Chintamani. In 1912 the Kung was attacked by
Chinese soldiers. They almost wounded him. They killed his
secretary. This led to a revolt in Tibet. The Kung is astonished
and rejoices at our Buddhist objects. We are breakfasting. We
are making Tibetan dishes. We speak of the movement of
Buddhism. He is a very ceremonious old man.
[25]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Interesting are the tales about the attacks of the cavalry of
Kham and Golok. Wild riders do not need reins. Their horses,
as in ancient narratives, take part in the battle with teeth and
hoof. During battle, the riders take off their \halats up to the
waist. Helmeted, with swords, lances and guns, this avalanche
is borne onward. Sometimes they disappear under the stomachs
of the horses. If all means of attack are exhausted the riders
take stones from the ground and fight with screams resembling
laughter. There is one sign which at once quiets this avalanche.
Of course every tribe has its particularities in battle and by not
knowing them one can weaken the best force. Tibetan women
in songs and in life sometimes are not behindhand in manifesta-
tions of courage. They throw hot water on the enemy; they
meet the temporary conquerors with derision.
• • • • •
Near Ghum stands a high rock. It is said that on its peak
is lying a significant prophecy. In each stupa are enclosed
significant objects. It is wrong to think that the bookshelves dis-
played in temples to some travelers comprise the entire book
treasures of the monastery. Besides these official volumes of
teachings everywhere in the secret recesses of the abbot there
are manuscripts of unusual interest. One thing is dangerous.
Often these hidden places are harmed by dampness, or mice,
or are simply forgotten during some hasty evacuation. Often a
lama will tell you: “I have written down the prophecies but I
do not carry them with me. They are lying under a stone.”
Then some unexpected event happens ; the lama hastens to put his
sack on his back and depart; and the invaluable manuscripts
are lost.
Some idiomatic commands are characteristic: “To put on
trousers” means to get ready for a march. Idiomatic terms often
bring difficulties into negotiations. Once an ambassador spoke
in very high terms about “the hair of Brahma.” Nobody under-
[26]
From a painting by Nicholas Roerich
TIBETAN LAMA
Roerich Museum, N. V
INDIA
stood him and the negotiations had to stop. However, he had
nothing else in mind than the river Brahmaputra. Often the
languages taught in universities do not help in the local places.
A Chinese book, “Wei Tsang T’u-Shih,” thus describes the
Potala: “The mountain palaces are glowing in a purple sheen.
The luster of the mountain peaks is equal unto emerald. Verily
the beauty and perfection of all objects make this place incom-
parable.”
We are reading of the builder of the Potala, the fifth Dalai
Lama, named “Ruler of conjurations, eloquent, holy ocean of
fearlessness.” It is he, who on becoming His Worthiness the
Dalai Lama in 1642, built Potala, the red palace, Pho Brang
dMarpo, on the red mountain Marpo ri. He also built the
remarkable monasteries Mo-ru, Labrang Garmakhiya, and many
others. He also erected on the rock the colossal relief of Buddha
and the saints of Buddhism. During his rule Mongols entered
Tibet the second time. Gruber, the Jesuit, dislikes very much
this strong leader, although he finds that he was cautious in his
methods, assiduous and devoted to art and knowledge.
Unusual is the end of this Dalai Lama. According to one
version the Dalai Lama died in the eighties and his death was
hidden for a few years in order to give opportunity for various
political matters to be adjusted. According to another version
the Dalai Lama voluntarily abandoned his rule and hid himself
for several years in the very same seclusion in the Himalayas.
History is paralleled by the following ancient legend: “Every
century the Arhats make an effort to enlighten the world. But
until now not one of these efforts has been successful. Failure has
followed failure. It is said that until the day when a lama will
be born in a western body and appear as a spiritual conqueror
for the destruction of the century-old ignorance, until then there
will be little success in dissolving the snares of the West.”
[27]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
The Chinese emperors lived according to the astronomical
seasons of the year. For each season of the year there was a
special colored garment. Each period of the year used to be
spent in a special part of the palace.
The method of Buddhist teaching reminds one of the method
of the Kabala, that of not imposing, but attracting, and pointing
out the best way. They speak about a remarkable monastery,
Mo-ru, and about the special learning of the lamas of that monas-
tery. For the three summer months the lamas go away to the
west for meditation.
During the “hearings” the lamas often cover their heads with
cloth. This recalls “biblical” ceremony. It recalls the statement
of Damis, the pupil of Appolonius of Tyana, of how Appolonius,
when he heard a “soft voice,” always wrapped himself com-
pletely, from head to foot, in a long scarf of woolen texture.
This scarf was kept only for this purpose. From altogether other
times, the very same details reach us. Contemporaries were
astonished how strangely Saint Germain sometimes “wrapped
himself up.” Let us remember also the warm shawl of Bla-
vatsky. Lamas carefully observe a certain condition of tempera-
ture which is favorable to the induction of different manifes-
tations.
Lady Lytton came to see the pictures. In the Lytton family
splendid traditions remain from their celebrated grandfather
Bulwer-Lytton. Then came Colonel Bailey. Then came the
whole Everest Expedition. By the way, they persistently wanted
to find out whether we did not ascend Everest. In the paint-
ing, “Burning of Darkness,” * they recognized the exact image of
the glacier near Everest, and they did not understand how this
* “Burning of Darkness” (“His Country” Series), Roerich Museum, New
York.
[28]
INDIA
characteristic view, seen only by them, could have come into the
picture.
A page of the true East: “Again they will come with the ques-
tion, ‘How shall one deal with obstacles?’ One person is hin-
dered by the family; one by a distasteful occupation; one by
poverty; one by the attacks of the enemies. A good rider likes
to show his skill on untrained horses and prefers obstacles to a
smooth path. Every obstacle must be the birth of possibilities.
When difficulties appear in the face of obstacles, they result pre-
cisely from fear. No matter in what attire a coward would garb
himself we must find the page about fear. Friends, so long as
obstacles do not seem as the birth of possibility, so long do we
not understand the teaching. Success lies in the enlarging of the
consciousness. It is impossible to come near in the presence of
fear. The ray of courage shall lead above the manifestations of
obstacles, because now, when the world knows where to go — the
seed of blood is growing. If the path is strewn by bones one
can go courageously. If peoples speak in unknown languages —
it means we can open the soul. If one has to hasten — it means
that somewhere a new enemy is ready. Be blessed, obstacles,
through you we grow.”
India, I know thy sorrows, but I shall remember thee with the
same joyous tremor as the first flower on the spring meadow.
From thy Brahmins we shall select the greatest who understood
the Vedic wisdom. We shall select the Rajah who strove for the
finding of the path of truth. We shall notice Vaishya and
Shudra who have exalted their craft and labor for the uplift-
ment of the world. A boiling kettle is the forge of India. The
dagger of faith over a white goat. The phantom flame of a
bonfire over a widow. Conjurations and sorcery. Complicated
are the folds of thy garments, India. Menacing are thy vestures
blown by the whirlwind. And deadly burning are thy inclement
rocks, India. But we know thy fragrant essences. India, we
[29]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
know the depths and finesse of thy thoughts. We know the
great Aum, which leads to the Inexpressible Heights. We know
thy great Guiding Spirit. India, we know thy ancient wisdom!
Thy sacred scriptures in which is outlined the past, the present,
the future. And we shall remember thee with the same tremor
as the most precious first flower on the spring meadow.
[30]
Part II
SIKHIM
(1924)
Evokingly and sharply the arrows whistle across the gulley,
from out the bamboo grove. The Sikhimese remember their
favorite ancient pastimes. One says: “The arrow is better than
a bullet. It sings as it strikes while the bullet screeches as it flies
outward.”
In the morning a red leaf was brought to us: “In the evening
Senge will arrive.” After sunset upon the zigzag of the path, the
fires began to flash out and the trumpets to resound. And finally
it came rolling on — motley, noisy, trumpeting, drumming; with
a dragon, with handmade horses, with paper yaks. With pop-
guns and many-colored fires the dance proceeded, the motley
crowd receding into the violet enamel of the night amid the
explosions of the flaming spark. . . . These are Polovetsky
dances! And the banners upon the staffs — these are the stand-
ards of Jenghiz Khan!
If you understand, then you will be understood. Touching
are some of the gifts of the lamas. Knowledge is needed in order
to understand all the finesse of intention in these gifts: To
whom an image, and just which image; to whom, a bearskin;
to whom, a leopard skin; to whom, a fur coat; to whom, a
\halat; to whom, a \hati\; and if so, whether one with designs
or a white one. By the hieroglyphs of these objects one can read
their entire relationship with you. Are you recognized as a
great scientist ? Or are you left within the limits of conventional
[3i]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
politeness? Or are you left without attention? Often the non-
understood “ceremony” is simply a short subtle code of gesture
and conduct.
Two worlds find expression in the Himalayas. One is the
world of the soil — full of the enchantment of these parts. Deep
ravines and grotesque hills rear up to the cloud-line, into which
melts the smoke of villages and monasteries. Upon the heights
gleam banners, suburgans or stupas. The ascending mountain
passes curve with sharp turns. Eagles vie in their flight with the
colorful kites flown by the villagers. In the bamboo-stalks and
amid the fern the sleek body of a tiger or a leopard adds a
glimmer of rich supplementary color. On the branches skulk
the dwarfed bears; and a horde of bearded monkeys often
escorts the solitary pilgrim.
An earthly world this, full of diversities! A stately larch
stands beside a blooming rhododendron. All is entangled. And
all this earthly wealth shades into the blue mist of the rolling
distances. A chain of clouds crowns the lowering mist.
Above this synthetic picture, it is strange, unexpectedly startling,
to behold new ramparts mounting the clouds. Above the nebu-
lous waves, above the twilight, glimmer the sparkling snows.
Erect, infinitely beauteous, stand these dazzling, impassable peaks.
Two distinct worlds, intersected by a mist!
Besides Mount Everest, fifteen peaks of the Himalayan chain
surpass in height Mont Blanc. If from the great river Rangith
we survey all the approaches to the snowy border and all the
white domes of the peaks, nowhere, to one’s recollection, is there
such an open barricade of elevations. From this superb pros-
pect one obtains an especially enthralling impression of the
grandeur of the Himalayas — “Dwelling of snows.”
To the side of the ascent, the summits merge into one im-
[S^]
SIKHIM
placable wall — the jagged, unending ridge of the Sacred Lizard.
It is difficult to discern that just at that point are hidden the
snowy summits of Jelep-la and Nathu-la on the way to Shigatse
and Lhasa — the fog seems especially often to envelop this road.
The upper portion of the Buddhist banners bear the cross-
shaped spear, disk, crescent and lotus-petals. Are not the emblems
of all teachings intertwined upon one flagstaff? In these re-
minders of the symbols of the elements of Nature every one will
find an image near to him.
Upon the ikons and ornaments of Tibet often is found, glow-
ing with precious stones, the image of the fish — that happy sign
— the same found upon the walls of the Roman catacombs. In
one conception is united the Buddha’s “Wheel of life,” the Circle
of the “Elements forming the mystery” of the Christian church
and the “Wheel of Ezekiel.” The many-eyed seraphim and
multiple eyes of the Luminous Mother of the World penetrate
equally into the recesses of the soul.
In the cults of Zoroaster there is represented the chalice with
a flame. The same flaming chalice is engraved upon the ancient
Hebrew silver shekels of the time of Solomon and of an even
remoter antiquity. In the Hindu excavations of the periods from
Chandragupta Maurya, we observe the same powerfully stylized
image. Sergius of Radonega, laboring over the enlightenment
of Russia, administered from the flaming chalice. Upon Tibetan
images, the Bodhisattvas are holding the chalice blossoming with
tongues of flame. One may also remember the Druid chalice
of life. Aflame, too, was the Holy Grail. Not in imagination;
verily by deeds are being interwoven the great teachings of all
ages, the language of pure fire!
It has long since been said, “Faith without deeds is dead.”
Buddha pronounced three paths: the long way of knowledge,
the shorter way of faith, and the shortest way— through action.
[33]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
David and Solomon also glorify the strivings of labor. The
Vedanta extols the manifestation of works. Verily, in the foun-
dation of all covenants, action is placed foremost. This is the
creative fire of the Spirit.
Are the symbols of the Hindu Trimurti alien to the Trinity?
Does the Buddhist Tree of Wishes, hung with the objects of all
desires, not respond to our conception of the Christmas Tree?
What of the details of the arrangement of the temple altars?
What of the ascetics and hermits, who buried themselves in their
stone coffins? What of the image-lamps and the fires of con-
jurations; the wreaths and candles of heartfelt prayer, flung upon
the bosom of the Ganges? And the birch of Trinity, the musk
and incense ? And the wrought gem-bedecked vestments ? And
the stones flung at Buddha by his closest kin — are they not like
the stones of Stephen? Verily, not by accident have Buddhist
legends been carved upon the frescoes of the Campo Santo in
Pisa. Profound in its significance too is the Moslem legend
telling of the visitation of the mother of Jesus to the mother
of Mohammed before the birth of the Prophet. And Ladakian
castles are towering, in the very same flight, as the eagles’ nests
of Faienza or Montefalcone.
In Jeddah, this gateway to Mecca, the Mohammedans espe-
cially venerate and guard the so-called Tomb of Eve. And it
is the same Archangel Gabriel — he of the Old and New Testa-
ments— who upon Mount Hira bade Mohammed commence his
preaching — the same one!
Mogul queens bore the revered title of Miriam. Miriam,
Mary, Mother of the World. From times immemorial have the
most ancient forgotten temples extolled the anticipation of the
new epochs.
[34]
SIKHIM
In the ancient city, Kish, has recently been discovered the
Temple of the Mother of the World.
Sarnath and Gaya, the scenes of Buddha’s personal achieve-
ments, are fallen in ruins, now only the goal of pilgrims. So
too, Jerusalem. “Because Jesus himself witnessed that the prophet
is without honor in his own country.”
• • • • •
According to the legend, Buddha’s initiation was performed
in the presence of the High Ones. The site of initiation is called
“the holiest stupa” but its location is not disclosed. The sites
of Buddha’s achievements on the Ganges are known, as well as
the scenes of the birth and death of the teacher — in Nepal. Ac-
cording to some indications the initiation was performed farther
north — beyond the Himalayas, because Buddha came down from
the north for the performance of his works. But where was
Jesus until his thirtieth year ? Who knows those haloed retreats ?
Whither lies Korya-Morya ? Shall they be revealed ? The
legendary mountain Meru, according to the Mahabharata, and
the equally legendary height Shambhala in Buddhist teaching,
both lay in the north and served as the summit for initiations.
And not everywhere until the appointed date, can the details of
these places of high knowledge be told.
Wise intercourses — one sees clearer from above. Instead of
petty quarrels of denunciation, history recalls to us truly inter-
national ties. It is pointed out as a historical fact that a Mon-
golian Bogdo-Khan was saved from illness by the “appearance
of Nicholas.” This is averred by the Mongolian Khutukhtus,
whose knowledge is considered very high. All is full of signs,
only do not overlook them. Observe keenly and joyously, and
flexibly.
[35]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Upon the wrist of a Tibetan woman we observed a strange
blue sign, which on closer inspection showed the appearance of a
tattooed blue cross of equal ends. When she was asked the
explanation of this sign, the woman revealed that a Tibetan
physician had applied the sign during “a very dangerous cough”
— evidently pneumonia. Tibetan physicians generally inject
medicines under such signs. This sign was made by the per-
sonal physician of the Dalai-Lama during his three years’ stay
in Darjeeling. Swastika is a symbol of the conception of fire and
life.
According to the prophecy of Lama Tsa-rinpoche, the present
attempt to conquer Everest will end only in losses. Let us see
whether the old lama is right.*
• • • • •
The lama seemed astonished at the desire of foreigners to
ascend the summit of Everest, at any risk. “Why expend such
efforts in the physical body? Is it not simpler to be there in
spirit?” For with ease do lamas project their astral bodies, for
which, of course, no height is an obstacle.
• • • • •
From this very window f the high priest sent prayers to Tibet
which was troubled by the Chinese. For three years, facing the
wall of the Himalaya, he kept vigil.
• • • • •
In the time of the old Jesuit mission, about 300 years ago, in
Lhasa, there was a Christian chapel. Great lamas visited it.
Now no one even remembers the approximate site of it.
The lama here bewails the visiting hunters — they came and
* The Lama proved to be right.
t The author lived in the so-called Talai-Pho-Brang where the Dalai Lama
stayed about three years during his flight from Tibet.
[36]
SIKHIM
killed many stags! And now when the lama strolls into the
forest, few are the stags that come to him. And he loves the
animals to approach him ! Not savagery but deep culture rings in
his complaint. We are reminded of the tale of old Avramy,
who was a shepherd beyond the Ural, and when he prayed to
the East, all the sheep in silence turned also toward the sunrise.
In Buddhist monasteries it was the custom to confine in the
library him who was defeated during a scientific argument. Let
him learn more! An excellent custom!
“A Chinese Amban (governor), an evil and dissolute man, was
desirous of visiting a venerated holy abbot of the local monastery
in Tibet. By persistence and force he demanded an audience, but
when he entered the reception room of the abbot, he saw on the
throne, instead of the holy man, the image of a hideous pig, and
in fright he rushed from the presence. Thus the dissolute man,
making his way by force, found an image worthy of him! A
fine reminder to all despots: As ye measure so shall it be meas-
ured unto you.”
• * • t •
A legend of Central Asia tells of the mysterious nation, under-
ground dwellers — the Agharti. Approaching the gates into this
blessed kingdom, all living beings become silent, reverently paus-
ing in their course. Recall, now, the Russian legend about the
mysterious “Tchud” which went underground to escape the
persecution of the evil forces. To this secreted place also leads
the sacred legend of the subterranean Kitege. Everything comes
from the North.
The whole world tells its tales of underground cities, treasure
troves, temples merging under water! The Russian and Norman
peasant relates about this with equal surety. So, too, does the
inhabitant of the desert know of the treasures which sometimes
[37]
ALTAI-HI MALAYA
glimmer from under the sand waves and then — until the ordained
time — recede again under the earth.
Around one beacon-fire are gathering those who remember
the predestined dates. We do not speak of superstitions but of
knowledge — knowledge revealed in beautiful symbols. Why in-
vent, when truth is so manifold ? In La Manche even now is seen
the city which has been “submerged” under water.
Many sources tell of the subterranean dwellings in the district
of Lhasa and Koko-Nor. A lama from Mongolia recalls the
following legend: When the foundations of the monastery
Genden were built during the time of the Teacher Tsong-kha-pa,
in the fourteenth century, it was noticed that through the gaps
of the rocks there arose the smoke of incense. A passage was
broken through and there was found a cave in which, motion-
less, was seated an old man. Tsong-kha-pa aroused him from
his ecstasy and the old man asked for a cup of milk. Then he
asked what teaching now existed upon earth. After which he
disappeared. It is also pointed out that the Potala, the palace
of the Dalai-Lama, has hidden recesses of the greatest antiquity.
By the facial expressions of the high lamas one will not discover
anything. One must seek through other paths.
If so much lies underground — how much more lies under the
veil of silence. It is naive to insist, after the first cautious re-
sponse. An authoritative astrologer assures us that he knows
nothing — has only heard rumors. Another who is versed in the
ways of antiquity just now insists he has not even heard of such
things. And why should they answer otherwise? They must
not betray. Most heinous is treason — and there are many traitors.
We discern the true devotion and behind it the structure of the
future.
» • • • •
It is said that Solomon manifested such devotion toward the
Temple that even when breathing his last, lest he interrupt
[38]
SIKHIM
or harm the work of construction, he remained upright in prayer
until an ant bored through his staff. The example of perse-
verance and devotion!
• • • • •
Unexplained have remained the strivings of Solomon toward
the One Beginning, sheltering all forms of knowledge. Aban-
doned Fatehpur-Sikri (near Agra) is full of the signs of this unity
which was understood by Akbar the Great who preached the
spirit of One Temple. In the center of the palace-court is still
standing the temple of united religion. Superficial writers wonder
why the walls of this mysterious structure bear the remains of
such varied signs — the traces of Buddhism mingled with Hindu
and Christian fragments. This united torch was already mani-
fested in life!
“Wise in heart and mighty in strength; who hath resisted
Him and hath had peace, Who spreadeth out the heavens and
treadeth upon the waves of the sea — Who maketh Arcturus and
Orion and the Pleiades and the inner part of the south — Who
doeth things great and incomprehensible and wonderful of which
there is no number” — exclaims Job about the One. And are
not the mysterious signs of Watan and Senzar received by great
lamas pointing toward it? We asked the Lama, “Is it true that
the Festival of Unity is approaching?” He looked closely at us,
then answered, “Such are the prophecies.”
In 1924, according to Tibetan calculations, the new era began,
for here a century is not calculated as a hundred years but as
sixty.
You listen to the reading of the Bhagavad-Gita ; you hear the
exclamation of the Buddhist servers of the temples. You listen
to the singing of the choir. Does there not appear before you
[ 39 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
the One Image — the One common Will toward happiness and
joy, to the unity of consciousness, embracing and conquering,
to the exalting and enlightening Aum?
Should we not reflect why all Covenants tell of the same active
beginning? Why is the manifestation of phenomena always
accompanied not only by the same unexplainable words, but
always by a vivid action of spirit? The writings say, “He re-
volted.” And without the wondrous “uprising,” without this
invisible action, nothing is decisive. He realized and became en-
lightened; became filled with invincible courage!
The formulae themselves often astonish by their universality.
In them are united the summons of the mysteries with the prayers
of the most unexpected cults separated by whole epochs and
whole continents. The language of the Mother of the World
is the same for all cradles.
• • • • •
“Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah,” or “Halelu, Halelu,
Halelu” is a conjuration of ancient rites. From the Chaldeans,
Babylonians, through the Israelites it reached our era. It is also
known by several tribes of India.
In this region the simple guide will suddenly turn around on
his path and proclaim: “But men must finally realize that pos-
session is one and all are equal ! But will That soon come, Which
will unite men?” So thinks and ponders the simple, poor man,
among the blue hills of Sikhim. In the hope of the guide you
discern the powerful proclamation of Vivekananda; without
depreciation, only in all powerful unity and righteous under-
standing, he walked. One wishes that our priests of the West
valued Buddha in the same way as the enlightened lamas speak
of us. Only in such benevolent understanding lies the guarantee
of the future structure,
[40]
SIKHIM
All creators of Unity must be recognized.
Principally let us have less of ignorant denials.
With difficulty one succeeds in getting plants which nurture
the musk-deer. But how to bring this mountain pine to the
laboratory? Below the altitude of 6,000 feet, the plants perish.
Most often from Bhutan the ragged, deep blue furling waves
of fog crawl upward. Not only the snowy ridges but also the
steps to the mountain paths are wrapped in the dense mist. It
is difficult to believe there is a hidden glimmer. Shall we not
begin denying the very existence of the Himalayas? If they
are invisible, that means they are non-existent! Whenever some-
thing is invisible to us we presume it does not exist. Such is the
decision of ignorance.
Intricate are the mountain paths with their many turns. How
many are the earth-covered pits under the horse’s hoofs! Many
are the intercrossing currents and streams, with the torpid damp-
ness under the green-blue foliage. Truly many are the serpents
beneath the flowers. And the language of the murmuring foliage
is incomprehensible.
Early are the stars aglow here. Toward the East, undiminished,
flames the triple-constellation of Orion, this astonishing constella-
tion which finds its way through all teachings. In the archives
of the old observatories, undoubtedly much remarkable data
could be found about it. The cults which surround some con-
stellations such as the Bear and Orion amaze you by their wide-
spread popularity.
The wisdom of the Shamans designates them for worship.
Nor did Job accidentally point to them alone as the supreme
act of achievement. The glimmer spreads everywhere. In the
latest number of the Journal of the London Asiatic Society is
[41 ]
ALT AI-HI MALAYA
this very important item: “The Emperor Baber near the begin-
ning of his memoirs says: ‘On the outskirts of Barakoh is a
mosque called the Jawza Madjid. The real meaning of the word
is House of Orion. Jawza is a name of Orion.’ ” With what
ancient cult was the mosque pointed out by Baber identified?
It is now most likely effaced by the sands of the great desert.
Thus we see how unceasingly does Orion attract the eye of men.
Again are the astronomic bulletins telling of the inexplicable
pink rays, which have suddenly flashed from this constellation.
The constellation of Orion contains the signs of the “Three
Magi.” The significance of Orion, too, in ancient teaching was
compared to the significance of Atlas, supporting the weight
of the world. Verily, the Star of the East! Only in the East
do you feel the vital sense of astrology and astro-chemistry in its
scientific import. The observatories in Jaipur and in Delhi over-
whelm one with their fantastic conviction.
The air is pure. The small Lepchas, coolies of Sikhim, bear
huge stones up to the mountain on their backs. It is for the
unknown structure. Their heads are bent so low that one cannot
distinguish their faces, because of the shawl and metal rings and
chains. Will they be able to bear it safely? How is it possible
to overload a body four feet high with such an immeasurable
burden of stones! Yet instead of groans you hear laughter from
under the bent back. Much laughter is heard in Sikhim. The
further one goes toward Tibet the more communicative are the
people. And the more often one hears singing accompanied
by a pleasantry. The air is clearer here.
The chief of the caravan is called Sardar. In his purple kaftan,
he is mounted firmly on the white mountain pony. Many are
the white horses here.
The caves of Kinchenjunga, where were guarded the treasures,
[42]
SIKHIM
are still far off. In one of the caves is the statue of Padma
Sambhava (teacher of Tibet) and behind it is seen a stone door —
never yet opened by man. And yet they say: “Nothing remains
hidden!”
• • • • •
The human consciousness often is “like a dog’s tail. If it has
curled itself — no matter how you straighten it out, it still per-
sists in curling back.” Thus it was told by the ancient Chinese.
But it is also known how completely the consciousness has
been transformed by a mere touch.
“Why do you not tell us all you know, as if you were strewing
pearls or setting landmarks?” By these signposts you yourself
will pass the entire way. You alone — by human feet. Accord-
ing to your growth shall you yourself gather pearls. By your
own hands shall you match them. By your own hands will you
develop dynamic power. “You will return” and project your
will.
Otherwise matter will again not flow out in the “song of cease-
less labor.” In this way, superficial curiosity will be divided
from true striving. They tell of one “modern sage” who offered
to found an institute where any one coming from the street could
at once be convinced of phenomena. But this “sage” forgot to
offer these strange comers from the street at least the wherewithal
to wash their hands for the tests. There are ways which we
must approach only with pure hands and with our own will.
And if through the shell of the objects of every day you will
be enabled to behold the summits of the cosmos — what a new
wondrous and undiminishing outlook shall the world have for
the unsheathed eye. The medical lore of the ancients acclaimed
laughter as useful for the purification of the glands. How useful
[43]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
then must a smile be for the brain! Thus shall the trembling
con juries of fear be transformed into the valiant call of joy.
#
The motley figures of hell are being trampled down by the
powerful feet of the White Guards. Red and green “guardians
of the entrances,” many-armed and with horrible grins, are
threatening the violators. In explosive gasps flare up the gold
tongues of the primeval flame. The misty aureoles of lights are
glowing. . . .
With cold respect or else with a clerical sense of the scientific,
do we examine the Tibetan and Nepal banner-paintings in the
British Museum, the Musee Guimet in Paris, or the Field Museum
in Chicago. But in a completely different attitude do we ap-
proach the same paintings on this site, and they speak to you
quite differently. Every gesture of Buddha’s hand is of vital
meaning for the local world. The good and evil entities with
their endless symbols are transformed from ornaments into a
living epos. The images are enfolded in a stirring harmony of
tones. The finest of these are of ancient work although the new
paintings are also at times excellent.
Let us predict for these images a great future — just as twenty
years ago the future importance of the old Russian ikons was
predicted. Merited attention has been given to the Chinese and
Japanese art. An elaborate literature has expressed this free
art concisely. But after a study of classic Egypt, after the subtlety
of Japan, after the romance of China and after the arabesque of
the Persian and Mogul miniature, now appears a new object
for study and admiration. The art of Central Asia is coming
to the fore. In the fiery fantasy; in the dignity of the fine form;
in the intense and complex gradation of tones is manifested this
[44]
SIKHIM
completely unique and striking art. But in its quiescent expres-
sion this art responds to the mystery of the cradle of humanity.
In itself it forms Asia, to which in time shall be directed inquiries
and researches.
Only, it is necessary to knock upon the doors of this beauty
without threats, without weapons, without pillage. With full
readiness must we gather the pearls of profound and anonymous
achievements; without superficial scientific hypocrisy and without
bribed treachery.
To study the life of a nightingale by first killing it — is it not
barbaric ?
• • • • •
One remembers keenly some objects discovered by Kozloff in
Kara-khoto in Mongolia. Especially does one recall the wondrous
image of the woman’s head. If such a people lived in the silenced
cities of the deserts — how far were these places from being a
wilderness!
Wisely, wisely did the deserts succeed in guarding for pos-
terity new treasures, and not only material treasures. . . .
One must recall not only the swords of the Tartar in measur-
ing the life of Central Asia. There are also the tents of all
travelers and searchers. Even to the Khan’s camps were sum-
moned the finest of artists.
I remember how badly fared one young doctor who was sent
to Urga in Mongolia for service. Poor soul, he knew not what
and how to search. If the young generation could realize what
treasures were prepared for it, and lie at the edge of the road —
unlifted. Sometimes it is only a question of lifting up the
treasures.
A little shepherd boy found 120 pounds of gold in Scythian
objects, because he was attracted by the glimmer of metal which
sparkled on the slope of the hill, washed off by the rain. How
[45]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
many such sparks are glimmering! But often our eyes are dulled
by laziness.
The blessed Maitreya is always represented crowned by a
wreath, in a great image. In Tashi-Lunpo, the monastery of the
Tashi-Lama, three years ago there was placed a gigantic image
of Maitreya, bearer of the new age of universal Unity. This
idea has been invoked with the new approaching era of Tibetan
chronology.
During the service in the temples smoking Tibetan tea is
passed around. Therein is the idea of the grail in this filling
of the vessels before the Blessed Image. One must never leave
the vessel empty — this is contrary to the custom of the East. Then
the gigantic trumpets are sounded, like the voices of storm and
thunder, with their summons to the future. Backs adorned with
their purple mantles are bent low, thinking of the future. And
like a fiery field, under the image of the Dream of the World,
one hundred and eight fires are glimmering.
In a special compartment are guarded the masks of the keepers.
Is it possible that these frightful visages can symbolize the way
of benevolence ? However, these are not symbols of benevolence
but symbols of earthly elemental forces. For there is the heaven
and the earth.
Even the physical world of Tantrik teaching, which has been
so degraded in modern understanding, must be conceived sub-
limely. The teacher, Padma Sambhava, would not have pro-
claimed only a physical teaching.
• • • • •
I look upon an ancient painting of the Monastery Daling.
Here are the acts of the teacher, Padma Sambhava. All his
forces are represented in action. Here is the teacher as a black-
hatted lama with Solomon’s Star upon his headdress, striking
a dragon. Here is the teacher summoning the rain. Here he
[46]
SIKHI M
saves a drowning one; he charms small evil spirits; weaponless,
he conquers beasts and by a magic weapon he smites a tiger,
first covering his head with the sacred triangle. Here he makes
harmless the serpents; here he conjures the stormy current; and
he sends rain. Now he fearlessly converses with the gigantic
mountain spirit. Here the teacher flies above all mountains.
Now out of the shelter of the cave he hastens to comfort the
world. And finally in the circle of a poor family, he prays for a be-
nign sea voyage for the absent master of the house. No matter how
clouded is his teaching now, its foundation stills gleams through.
Or again, another ancient painting: “The Paradise of Padma
Sambhava.” The teacher sits in the Temple surrounded by the
Righteous Ones. The Temple stands upon a mountain separated
from the earthly world by a blue river. Across the river are
stretched white hati\s (scarfs) and upon them the self-denying
voyagers are crossing to the temple. A clear picture of the
illuminated ascent! Of course, his commentators have be-
smirched even this manifestation. How encrusted with false
grimaces are also all religions.
Of course, the teacher, Tsong-kha-pa, is still nearer. He rose
beyond the confines of magic. He forbade the monks to have
recourse to magic powers. His teaching — that of the Yellow
Lamas — seems less spoiled.
On New Year’s Eve, February 4, after sunset, the fires in the
monasteries upon the hill dart up. And the ringing gongs and
the far-away drums reverberate. ... In the morning are held the
dances.
Before the New Year, the evil entities are destroyed by con-
jurations and dances. In the Dance of the Stags, the effigy of
[47]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
the evil entity is hacked and its parts strewn around. In the
midst of the circle proudly walks the Guardian of the Teaching,
brandishing his sword — while black-headed lamas whirl around,
swirling the wings of their broad sleeves. Musicians in high
yellow hats are coming to the fore, like Berendeys in “Snow-
maiden.” And above the ornamented cornices of the temple the
eagles wheel, while from the turrets of the hill the assembled
crowds stand out in colorful relief.
The dances themselves on the New Year’s day acquire signifi-
cance, with their frightful symbols of evil entities. How far
removed is the impression made by these awe-inspiring masks,
against the sunny background of the Himalayas, from the oppres-
sive dark corners of Museums where these examples are so often
collected, frightening the visitor by the apparition of a conven-
tional hell ! Of course, this hell is invoked only for the terrifying
of the weakly developed souls, and much fantasy is devoted to
the intensifying of these hellish countenances.
• • • • •
In the monastery of the Red Caps the impression is not so
luminous. In the Red Monasteries of Padma Sambhava this
symbolization is more physically conventional. The play starts
with a simple “mystery” of the judgment over the dead. The
chief lord of hell approaches with his assistants. The beast-
like servitors drag forward the black soul of a dead murderer.
They weigh out his crimes. The chalice of his sins weighs down
the balance, and the murderer is thereupon thrust into a seeth-
ing caldron. The same occurs to the soul of a female sinner.
But then there is summoned forth a saint* in the vestments of a
lama. He is adorned in a white scarf. Of course, the court
must be just, so three messengers of joy lead the exalted one
into paradise!
[48]
SIKHIM
Fifteen years ago there died a remarkable lama who came
from Mongolia. We saw his image — resembling the type of
Russian ascetic. A powerful visage, unconquerably hard are the
cheek bones; the eyes are piercing. “During the departure of
this strong spirit, a rainbow shone over the monastery founded
by him.”
The lama possessed rare books — and it is very difficult to obtain
rare books. One must send a trusted person into remote districts.
Remarkable books exist; there is the book of one Tashi-Lama,
concerning his visit to sacred Shambhala. There are collections
of symbolic parables. There is a treatise on the transmigration
of souls. They are not translated.
The teachings brought from Shambhala often find their way
into the works of European scientists. For instance, in the ceme-
tery of Darjeeling is buried an enigmatic man, Hungarian by
birth, who lived at the end of the eighteenth century. He came
walking from Hungary to Tibet, remaining many years in un-
known monasteries. In the thirties of the last century, Csoma de
Koros, as he was called, died. In his works he pointed out the
teachings from Shambhala, designating the next hierarchy to
succeed Buddha. It is very characteristic that this savant came
here from Hungary. His activity was entirely enigmatic.
One more spark about Shambhala. A very well known Tashi-
Lama often fell into an ecstasy during his talks with his pupils.
Sometimes he seemed to disappear altogether, being transported
into the sanctuary, Shambhala. These ecstasies vividly transport
one to the discourses of the time of Saint John de la Croix with
Saint Theresa when both blessed conversationalists in exultation
were raised to the ceiling of the room.
[49]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Remembering exalted occurrences, one also recalls the sparks
of indignation. “A slanderer once approached Buddha, but the
Blessed One was so indignant, that a spark of lightning struck
the offender. Of course, the Blessed One arrested the counter-
blow and revived the defamer, but the latter had been so shocked
that he forgot his plan of attack. The sparks of the counter-
blow!”
“The case is also told that Sengchen Lama, before his execu-
tion in Lhasa, pointed out that he would soon reincarnate again
on earth. And truly very soon in Chinese Turkestan was born
a boy with the same rare and characteristic physical defect on his
knee, which distinguished the late Lama. Now this Mongolian
prince is more than twenty years of age. At present in our service
is the son of the servant of the late Lama, and he was wont to
travel on the errands of his father to the young prince.”
• • • • •
Whoever is acquainted with riding horseback in Caucasia or
in the Arizona and Colorado canyons, will know how to climb
the steeps of the hills of Sikhim. Only, instead of the colorful
tragedy of American wonders, here you behold an ascending
garden cultivated by the mysterious rise of exalted teaching. And
in its unknown caves sit hermits, who upon the strings of earth
are composing the legend of celestial life.
He who has known the approaches to the old monasteries and
ancient town sites in Russia with their blossoming hills and
fragrant pine groves, will understand the feeling on the approach
to the monasteries of Sikhim. I always repeat that if you want
to see a beautiful spot, ask the inhabitants of a town to point
out the most ancient site. These people of times immemorial
knew how to select the most beautiful places.
Every mountain summit is crowned by a beautiful mendong,
with its wheels of life, its prayers carved in relief and with its
niches for seats from which you behold the image of the far-off
[50]
SIKHIM
distances. Here lamas and travelers are meditating. Here ban-
ners are fluttering. Here each rider will slow down his horse.
From the mountain summit you plunge again into the receding
hills. The ribs of the checkered hillocks also disappear, like the
backs of panthers, tigers and wolves.
After the hills, again the fairy-tales of the forest. Green gnomes
and monsters impede the way. The verdant webs intertwine.
The snakes wind themselves around the trunks. The moss-
like tigers and leopards here are lurking. An enchanted world
this!
The most fantastic hills and rocks form themselves into a seem-
ing Sacred Chalice — a vast valley. In the center of the valley
unapproachably stands the mountain of the White Stone, girded
by two rivers. It is crowned by the Monastery Tashi-ding, which
means “Valley open to heaven.” An ancient place this. Try
to search the endless wrinkles and cavities of its rocks. Try to
unearth the treasures collected by the monastery — the miraculous
stone, fulfillment of all wishes; the immortal Amritha and a
hundred images of Buddha; as well as all the sacred books tem-
porarily hidden ; and all else spoken of in the ancient manuscript,
“The Voyage through Sikhim.”
The approaches to Tashi-ding are very difficult. Only recently
have the impossible trails been transformed into steep footpaths.
Verily, the path of the spirit must be traversed by human feet!
One crossing on the suspended bamboo bridge is especially
hazardous. Below, the mountain river rushes and roars, bearing
down the icy current from Kinchenjunga. And above the bridge
on the steep slope, you pause many times: Shall I at last arrive?
One must hold one’s breath to conquer this age-old mountain.
Upon the upper slope an honorary reception is arranged for
us by the land owners. Ale, sugar-cane and tangerines await
us, under the canopy of rushes adorned with their yellow garlands.
Farther off resound the reverberant drums and silver gongs:
[5i]
The reception of the monastery. On the last slope we are met
by the pipers and trumpeters.
Amidst the rows of a colorful crowd you reach the ancient
place. Behind the gates of the monastery, in purple garments,
the lamas receive you. In the front row a venerable old man,
head lama of the monastery, stands like a delicately carved image
of the fifteenth century. Thus you walk up to the spreading
turquoise tents in the midst of a forest of stupas and amidst
many-colored banners, amidst the sparkling rows of fires.
In the first full moon after New Year, which fell this year
on the twentieth of February, there was the annual festival in
Tashi-ding. The miracle of the self-filling chalice occurs at
the time.
Since ancient days — more than eight generations ago — this
miracle has been ordained. From a designated spot in the
mountain river a small vessel of water is drawn and poured
into an ancient wooden chalice. In the presence of witnesses,
representatives of the Maharajah of Sikhim, the chalice is closed
and hermetically sealed. A year later at sunrise during the same
full moon, the chalice is unsealed amidst due ceremony and
the quantity of water is measured. Sometimes the water has
diminished but sometimes it has increased considerably. In the
year of the great war the water tripled in quantity, which meant
war. Now the water has diminished by half, which means
famine and disorder.
This evil omen has been intensified by another sign. On
February twentieth there occurred a complete eclipse of the
moon. Never has there been so evil a sign.
The trumpets sound, the whistles shiiek, the people in cos-
tumes, as though from the “Snowmaiden,” proceed to the great
stupa. The choir, singing, winds its way around the crowds.
[52]
SIKHIM
Many prostrate themselves. The drums of the lamas resound-
ingly thunder. At this moment darkness falls athwart the clear
moonlight! The golden fires of offerings gleam out as though
against black velvet. Occurs a complete eclipse! The demon
Rakhu has stolen the moon! Never was it so until this day of
miracle in Tashi-ding.
Said Asura Rakhu to the sun: “Because thou hast carried away
Razayana by deceit, I shall swallow thee, god of sun, at that time
when, on the thirtieth day, you will unite the knots of the
orbit!” And further Rakhu pronounced a prophetic threat: “In
penalty that thou, moon, although recognizing me, commanded
that I be cut asunder, I shall seize thee and devour thee on the
date of the fifteenth, during the time of the full moon!” And
attentively the people are watching the eclipse of the moon and
sun and beat upon the drums and threaten Rakhu.
But there was also one good omen. At sunrise the head lama
beheld garlands of fire starting to glow upon the peaks of the
mountains.
When the moon was restored to the world, the dancing com-
menced around the main stupa, a typical Russian round. The
songs are also like the Russian; their import is spiritual. “In
a monastery dwells our Lord Buddha. We bring to him our
offering” — so begins one song; or “Mighty is the sacred book
but I shall find a spot for it close to my heart” or, “I recollect
the sacred monastery.”
In a white kaftan the artist who decorated the local temple
approaches. We have arranged for him to go with us to paint
the Blessed Maitreya. He will demonstrate the technique of the
local painting.
[53]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Red, yellow, white, purple kaftans; women’s sleeves of crim-
son, green and white. Peaked hats, fur-edged. The people talk,
sing, and for two nights walk around the stupa.
They are touching their foreheads to the stone upon which
the teacher, Padma Sambhava gave his benediction of the site.
They walk around another stone bearing the imprint of the
teacher’s foot and the imprint of hoofs and paws of beasts.
And again the chorus marches around the stupa, singing of the
fulfillment of all desires.
• • • • •
Entering the temple, you walk along your left up to the wall
of the altar. Within the temples of the Yellow Sect, in the center
of the altar wall, is the statue of Buddha. Or now, perhaps
Maitreya-Buddha is at the right. Sometimes the lower temple is
dedicated to Padma Sambhava and the upper one to Buddha.
These positions are closely related to the inner meanings of the
teachings: Buddha represents heaven; Padma Sambhava the
earth. Upon the side niches are images of Avalokiteshvara —
a spiritual conclave of brotherhood, many-headed and many-
armed, like our Russian Hundred-Armed One. There are also
statues of the “Keepers of Lightning,” of the founders of Mon-
asteries and of sixteen Arhats, sitting in carved caves. Upon
the altar are lamps and various offerings, seven chalices with
water, a saucer of rice, censers with incense, a shrine with relics.
The walls are generally covered with frescoes, especially one
wall, that of the altar. At the entrance stand the images of the
guardians of the four hemispheres. In every temple will be
found an image of the seven treasures vouchsafed to humanity;
among them on a white horse is the image of the miraculous
stone.
In a special compartment are kept the sacred books. The
[54]
SIKHIM
common dream of the monasteries is to increase the number of
books; but books are expensive — a sacred volume costs up to a
thousand rupees.
Especially touching is the service of the thousand lights, in
the evening, here in the low frescoed temple, with its columns and
ornamented beams. In the center is a long table on which fires
are set; along the walls also stand rows of lights, and this sea
of fires caressingly undulates and sways, wrapped in a veil of
smoke from the sandalwood, wild mint and other fragrances,
which are consumed in the urns. During this service the singing,
too, is of exquisite harmony.
Along all paths, the caravans of the pilgrims wind their way.
High saddles are covered with bright fabrics. Wild white ponies
are bearing the bulging-bellied luggage. There are crowds of
pilgrims seeking a resting place for the night. Here and there are
a few banners raised in memory of the living and oftener for
the dead. A crowd up to 1,200 collects together — but a peaceful,
good crowd.
At early dawn, long before sunrise, when the snows on the
mountain are still soft amber, the camp begins to stir. The
drone of life creeps along and broadens; the cadence of early
prayer mingles with the stamping of horses and mules.
In the morning, a procession makes its way toward our tents.
The head lama himself proclaims the bringing of gifts. After
him follow high uplifted trays with rice, with the ribs of a ram,
with sugar-cane, with ale and fruit. The lama himself makes
the offering to our traveling kitchen.
Amidst the stupas are spread the tents of the pilgrims. Here
under a green canopy are sitting lamas from Tibet. Women are
turning for them the lengthy pages of the prayer book. The
lamas are intoning Tantrik songs, to the sounds of hand drums
and gongs. Where is Stravinsky, Stokovsky, Prokofieff, where
[55]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Zavadsky, to portray the powerful modes of these stirring calls?
And how fine is the white-gold face of her who turns the pages
before the singers.
Not far off, a group from Nepal are clapping hands in rhythmic
beat and chanting. In the center, a woman, with features un-
moved, ecstatically dances the Sherpa Dance, full of the fine
gestures of conjuration. Sometimes she moves her hands in a
fluttering motion like a bird and utters a weird birdlike call.
It is indeed striking.
There the wanderers from Bhutan are praying under a red
canopy. Before the distribution of the healing waters, a sacred
procession walks around the stupas. In the front are trumpeters
in high red hats; after them the lamas in tiaras, and behind are
borne a long row of sacred books.
At sunset, within the tent, the head lama quietly speaks of
the sanctuaries of Sikhim. He relates the “miracles” which he
has heard, or has himself seen; of the buzzing of swarms of
invisible bees; of the singing and celestial music; of the appari-
tions of sacred images. At our departure the lama pointed out
two gracious omens: Upon our way, coming to meet us, were
three brimming bamboo water-pails carried by water carriers
and two woodsmen with full fagots of wood.
#
# #
Tashi-ding is one of Sikhim’s prominent sites and belongs
to the parish of a great monastery, Pemayangtse, and is a day’s
travel away. It is also on the peak, standing like a bulwark.
It has been newly rebuilt. Its renovation has been done with
such sensitiveness that even the most recent painting gives you
joy by its fine and ingenious decoration. And the carvings on
[56]
SIKHIM
the casements are fairylike. And the tall heavy doorways lead
you into the wooden temples of Russia. Dignified are the head
lamas with their festive purple garments and with their impres-
sive red tiaras adorning their heads. Nevertheless one recalls
with most pleasure the eighty-year-old abbot of Tashi-ding, ever
zealous and careful to improve his structure, with his economical
eye penetrating everywhere.
Behind the gates of Pemayangtse are standing as guardians
three-hundred-year-old ancient trees — like the fairy forest of
Berendey. A tiny street of the lamas’ homes is like the suburb of
Berendey, painted and ornamented with its many-colored porches
and stairways.
Here is “Heaven’s Sacred Mountain” and upon its peaks shines
a small mountain lake. There is also a small temple erected
on the spot where the founder of the Red Sect in Sikhim lived.
From Dubdi, the founder passed to the Sacred Lake and thence
into the ancient Sanga Choling.
The four most ancient monasteries of Sikhim are Dubdi, Sanga
Choling, Daling and Robling. And the meanings of their names
are noble ones: “Palace of Meditation,” “Island of Secret Teach-
ing,” “Island of Lightning” and “Island of Happy Striving.”
An excellent monastery is Sanga Choling; nor do we forget
Daling with its blue-white, porcelainlike entrance amidst a bam-
boo grove. Here at the altar is preciously kept a sealed box con-
taining relics of the founder of the monastery. There are ban-
ners— gold on a black background. In Sanga Choling there
are no relics, but there lies a stone made sacred by the blessing
of the founder; when the life in the monastery is undefiled the
stone is firm, but each besmirching of life makes the stone crack.
Here are those tiny doors, beloved to me in Novgorod and
[57]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Yaroslavl. Here is beautiful fresco painting. Here are the
polychrome ornaments entwining all casements of the windows
and doors. Here are the same rounded backs of pilgrims devoted
to the faith, and the fires of dedicated offerings. Our coolies are
also lighting a fire — a true widow’s mite. And above them
adamantly rises “the Keeper of Lightning.”
Although the teacher, Padma Sambhava, was never in Pe-
mayangtse, yet in the monastery are kept the things which
belonged to this founder of the religion. The things are kept
sealed but on some occasions are shown; a garment, headdress,
beads, tiny bells of a wondrous chime, two magic daggers and a
small exquisite image of Buddha.
And the trumpets sound more thunderous in Pemayangtse and
the dragon guardians seem more terrifying and the influence of
the monastery is greater. The ruins of the palace of the Maha-
rajah are near. According to the biblical custom the first Maha-
rajah was chosen to reign by the head of the religion. But there
is no figure of Maitreya in the big monastery.
A few solitary temples with a single fire before them, sur-
rounded by peach and rose flowers and intertwining orchids and
wild peonies, indicate closer the path of simple attainment of the
Teaching.
Out of the forest walks a peasant and his head is adorned with
white flowers. Where is this possible? Only in Sikhim.
• • • • •
Are the inhabitants of Sikhim poor? Where there are no
riches there is no poverty. The people are living simply. Upon
the hills, amidst blossoming trees, stand the quiet little houses.
Through the colored branches shine the bright stars and glimmer
the snow-covered peaks. Here are people carrying their vege-
tables; here they pasture their cattle and smile kindly. Here
[58]
SANCTUARIES AND CITADELS
SIKHIM
with fairylike music they walk along the steep paths in wedding
processions. Knowing of reincarnation they quietly cremate the
bodies. And they are singing. Mark, they are often singing.
Verily, one can sing under a canopy of various flowers and
plants. Orchids, like colorful eyes, cling to the trunks of the
giant trees. Pink, purple and yellow bouquets are strewn along
the way like bright sparks. And these are not simply plants;
many have their ancient powers of healing.
Nature awaits here full of gifts. Come hither and be cured.
Charura, Parura, Orrura are the three important curative fruits
against cough, cold and fever. Charura is like a yellow cherry;
Parura like a green chestnut and Orrura like a yellowish-green
crab-apple. All three are sharp to the taste and full of tannin.
Here is the red bark of Aku Ombo, to cure wounds. Salve against
fever is Sergi Phurba, like a dry giant bean. Chuta, the dry
bitter root, will cure swelling and heal the throat. Bassack is a
brown powder for colds. The red-stemmed Tze produces
magenta; bitter Purma is for incenses. A broth from the roots
of Berekuro is effective for women’s ailments. The flowers of
Dangero heal the stomach, much like the flower of the red rhodo-
dendron; while the leaf of Dysro is a disinfectant for wounds.
Memshing Pati is a sacred plant in Nepal, where it is used for
head ornaments at festivals. Endless are the useful plants await-
ing the best application and study.
The leaves of the herb Ava Duti are said “to soften” stones,
just as do the “snow-frogs” * in the Himalayas. Therefore if
upon a stone you see the print of an elk’s foot or the paw of an
animal, it seems they have eaten or touched this wondrous herb.
Turning again to legends: near Phalut on the road to Kinchen-
junga grows a precious plant, the black aconite. Its flower lights
* Snow-frogs” — a legend which attributes to snow-frogs the ability to soften
stones.
[59]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
up at night, and by its glow one locates this rare plant. Here
again is the trace of the legend of the Russian fire flower, that
enchanted blossom which fulfills all wishes — and which leads
us not to superstition but to that same source wherein so much
still lies concealed.
• • • • •
Before our gates was found a strange gift. The branches of a
fir tree, rhododendron and some other plants were there, with
their leaves pointing to our house, and covered with a flat stone.
This is a conjuration (Sunnium) and the man who raises this
offering receives upon himself all which is sworn upon it, whether
of good or evil, sickness or sorrow or joy. For many days it
lay there and even horses shied at it. The same conjuration
we observed in the suburb of Jaipur; there in the middle of a
street, in a flat basket, lay a lamb’s liver, flowers and three silver
rupees. None touched them. These conjurations are of very
ancient origin.
• ■ • • •
Everywhere are legends of the accidental discoveries of sacred
spots, the revelation of which was followed by dumbness and
even death. Thus it is told that one Shikari (a hunter) in Assam,
accidentally wandered into a sacred place and beheld its mys-
teries, and when he attempted to reveal them he was stricken
dumb.
• • • • •
On the shore of the sea is moving a stick. It moves on alone
and near the top of it is tied a lighted tinder. Thus do the
conjurers of the coast of Malabar invoke their conjurations to
burn the house of an enemy. Doctor Jones of Calcutta tried to
overtake such a stick but it “walked away” beyond his own pace.
A legend from around Mongolia: “A venerated mother died
and her son was desirous that a high lama possessed of exalted
[ 60 ]
SIKHIM
powers should perform the services over her. But such a lama
could not be found. The son at the moment of death deposited
the spirit of the departing one into a sandalwood casket, strongly
sealed this sanctuary and himself invited the best lamas from
Tibet. The lamas concentrated upon the casket; one of them be-
gan to change in countenance, first becoming red, then blue from
exertion. Then suddenly the casket burst into splinters before
the eyes of all. This lama was able to free the spirit and thus
could perform the service.”
• • • • •
The people here know everything; they have heard everything.
One can remember and disclose all things in the twilight: of
“Nam-Yg” (heavenly letters) — the letters and sacred books which
are falling from heaven; of rings of silver or turquoise which
change their color as a sign of foreboding and warning; of Si,
the stone bead, sent from heaven to guard the health; of the
finding of objects which disappear afterward. All this is known.
• • • • •
A woman was very pious and dreamt that she might receive
the image of Buddha. Working in the morning amid her flowers
she discovered an image and brought it into her shrine. But
soon she forgot it and Buddha disappeared from the shrine.
Next time the woman found in her garden a whirling sparkling
stone and put it into a coffer and forgot it. Then the stone
disappeared. Neglect always results in the disappearance of the
bestowed happiness.
Do not record the things which can be read in books but those
which are related to you in person; for those thoughts are the
living ones. Not by the book but by the thought shall you judge
life. Understand the sparks of the primordial bliss.
[ 61 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
In the twilight under the flowing stars, in the purple sheen
of the mist, sounds the soft voice of the lama, telling his calm
tale of the “King of the World,” of His power, of His action
and wisdom, of His legions, in which each warrior shall be
possessed of some extraordinary gift. And he tells of the dates
of the new age of general well-being
The tale is taken from an ancient Tibetan book, wherein,
under symbolic names, are given the future movements of the
Dalai-Lama and Tashi-Lama, which have already been fulfilled.
There are described the special physical marks of rulers under
whom the country shall fall during the reign of the monkeys.
But afterwards shall the rule be regained and then will come
Someone of greatness. His coming is calculated in twelve years
— which will be in 1936.
• • • • •
When the time came for the Blessed Buddha to depart from
this earth He was asked by four lords of Dharmapala to bequeath
to mankind His image. The Blessed One consented and desig-
nated the most worthy artist, but the artist could not take the
exact measurements because his hand trembled so when he ap-
proached the Blessed One. Then said Buddha, “I shall stand
near the water. Thou shalt take the measurements from my
reflection.” And the artist was thus enabled to do so, and exe-
cuted four images, modeled from a sacred alloy of seven metals.
Two of these images are now in Lhasa and the remaining two
are still hidden until the appointed time.
One Tibetan ruler married Chinese and Nepal princesses in
order that through them he might attract to Tibet the two sacred
images of Buddha.
Twelve hundred years after Buddha, the teacher Padma
Sambhava brought closer to men the teachings of the Blessed
[62]
SIKHIM
One. At the birth of Padma Sambhava all the skies were aglow
and the shepherds saw miraculous tokens. The eight-year-old
Teacher was manifested to the world in the Lotus flower. Padma
Sambhava did not die but departed to teach new countries. Had
he not done so the world would be threatened with disaster.
In the cave Kandro Sampo, not far from Tashi-ding, near a
certain hot spring, dwelt Padma Sambhava himself. A certain
giant, thinking to penetrate across to Tibet, attempted to build
a passage into the Sacred Land. The Blessed Teacher rose up
and growing great in height struck the bold venturer. Thus
was the giant destroyed. And now in the cave is the image of
Padma Sambhava and behind it is a stone door. It is known that
behind this door the Teacher hid sacred mysteries for the future.
But the dates for their revelation have not yet come.
Wherefore do the giant trumpets in the Buddhist temples have
so resonant a tone ? The ruler of Tibet decided to summon from
India, from the place where dwelt the Blessed One, a learned
lama, in order to purify the fundamentals of the teaching. How
to meet the guest? The High Lama of Tibet, having had a
vision, gave the design of a new trumpet so that the guest should
be received with unprecedented sound; and the meeting was a
wonderful one — not by the wealth of gold but by the grandeur
of sound!
• • • • •
Why do the gongs in the temple ring out with such great
volume? And as silver, resound the gongs and bells at dawn
and evening, when the atmosphere is tense. Their sound re-
minds one of the legend of the great Lama and the Chinese
emperor. In order to test the knowledge and clairvoyance of
the Lama, the emperor made for him a seat from sacred books
and covering them with fabrics, invited the guest to sit down.
The Lama made certain prayers and then sat down. The em-
[63]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
peror demanded of him, “If your knowledge is so universal,
how could you sit down on the sacred books?” “There are no
sacred volumes,” answered the Lama. And the astonished em-
peror, instead of his sacred volumes, found only blank papers.
The emperor thereupon gave to the Lama many gifts and bells
of liquid chime. But the Lama ordered them to be thrown into
the river, saying, “I will not be able to carry these. If they are
necessary to me, the river will bring these gifts to my monastery.”
And indeed the waters carried to him the bells, with their crystal
chimes, clear as the waters of the river.
“Talismans. A mother many times asked her son to bring
to her a sacred relic of Buddha. But the youth forgot her request.
She said to him, ‘I shall die here before your eyes if you will not
bring it to me now.’ The son went to Lhasa and again forgot
the mother’s request. A half day’s journey from his home, he
recalled the promise. But where can one find sacred objects in the
desert? There is nought. But the traveler espies the skull of a
dog. He decides to take out a tooth and folding it in yellow
silk he brings it to the house. The old woman asks of him,
‘Have you forgotten again my last request, my son?’ He then
gives her the dog’s tooth wrapped in silk, saying, ‘This is the tooth
of Buddha.’ And the mother puts the tooth into her shrine,
and performs before it the most sacred rites, directing all her
worship to her holy of holies. And the miracle is accomplished.
The tooth begins to glow with pure rays and many miracles and
sacred manifestations result from it.”
A man searched for twelve years for Maitreya-Buddha. No-
where did he find him, and becoming angry, he rejected his
faith. As he walked along his way he beheld one who with a
horsehair was sawing an iron rod, repeating to himself, “If the
whole of life is not enough yet will I saw this through.” Con-
fusion fell upon him — “What mean my twelve years,” he said,
[64]
SIKHIM
“in the face of such persistence? I will return to my search.”
Thereupon Maitreya-Buddha himself appeared before the man
and said, “Long already have I been with you but you did
not see me, and you repulsed me and spat upon me. I will
make a test. Go to the bazaar. I will be upon your shoulder.”
The man went, aware that he carried Maitreya. But the men
around him shrank from him, closing their noses and eyes.
“Wherefore do you shrink from me, people?” he asked. “What
a fright you have on your shoulder — an ill-smelling dog full of
boils!” they replied. Again the people did not see Maitreya-
Buddha, for each beheld only what he was worthy of seeing.
The lama says, “There are three kinds of teaching — one for
the stranger, one for our own, and the third for the initiated
who can retain. Now through ignorance they slaughter animals,
they drink wine, they have property and eat meat and live
squalidly. Does religion permit all this ? Where is beauty, there
is teaching; where is teaching, there is beauty.
The people here are sensitive. Your emotions and desires are
transmitted so easily. Therefore know clearly what you desire.
Otherwise instead of Buddha you shall behold the dog.
That which is hidden in the past is not of importance — that
which in age-old books, copied and unfinished, lies covered with
dust. For the new construction, that which now resolves itself
into life is important. Not through library shelves but through
the living word is measured the possibility of future structures.
Under Kinchenjunga are secreted the caves in which are rest-
ing the treasures. In stone coffins the cave dwellers are praying,
torturing themselves in the name of the future. But the sun
already has defined the future; not in secret caves but in full
sunlight one perceives the worship and expectation of Maitreya-
[65]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Buddha. It is now three years since the Tashi Lama solemnly
and openly dedicated the great New Image in his Tashi-lhunpo.
The intense, invisible work progresses.
The Tashi Lama is now on his way to Mongolia by way of
China. Unprecedented through the ages is this event. Mystery!
Incidentally, it may be that through Sikhim passed only the ab-
ducting detachment and the Lama himself moved on to Mon-
golia.
• • • • •
On a sacred morning upon the mountain started to glow rows
of fire— another mystery!
• • • • •
Just now the wave of attention is turned toward Tibet — behind
the mountain rampart events are stirring, but Tibetan secrecy
is great. Information is contradictory. Whither disappeared the
Tashi Lama ? What military manoeuvers proceed on the Chinese
border? What transpires on the Mongolian line? A year of
events !
Sikhim is called the land of lightning. Of course, here also
occurs lightning but is it not simpler to call it “the land of future
steps”? For it would be difficult to imagine a better threshold
to the mysteries of the future than this unexplored, rarely pene-
trated country of rocks and flowers.
As behind a tiny silver apple on a saucer, do the hills and
steps of the Himalayas reveal themselves. Hundreds, perhaps
more, are the monasteries in Sikhim, each crowning the top of
a summit. A small temple in Chakong; a big suburgan and
monastery in Rinchenpong. Upon the next mountain appears
gleaming white Pemayangtse, still higher, Sanga Choling. Tashi-
ding is almost unseen. On the other side of the valley is Daling
and opposite Robling and still nearer Namtse. For a distance
[66]
SIKHIM
of forty miles one may behold the monasteries for we must not
forget that here one sees extremely far.
And again before us is the wall to Tibet. And not the back-
bone of the lizard but the snow-white girdle is outlined upon
the peaks of this wall — the girdle of the earth. Let us point the
arrow northward — there must be the base of Mount Meru.
The Talmud relates that the dove brought the first olive branch
to Noah from Mount Moriah. And Mount Moriah and the
mountain Meru both lie in Asia. Here is the beginning of all
things. Here is the source for all travelers and all searchers.
Here is raised the first image of the Blessed Maitreya — Messiah —
Muntazar.* Thrice powerful M! Here above all disputes, the
teachings have raised up the olive branch of the new world.
Here is ordained the universal commune.
Some one voluntarily approached and touched our tent! Who
is this man, with his long black braid and a turquoise earring
in his ear, and garbed in a white kaftan? It is the Lama, Pema
Don-dub, the local ikon painter. We ask, “Can you paint for
us the Blessed Maitreya, exactly like the one in Tashi-lhunpo?”
He consents and now he sits on a tiny rug in the corner of the
white gallery, and with various pigments, paints the Image full
of symbols. He prepares the fabric for the painting and covers
it with lev\as (a mixture of chalk on glue), and irons it with
a shell. He works exactly like Russian ikon painters. In the
same way does he grind his colors, heat them on a coal pan ; and
thus does he keep an additional brush in his thick black hair.
His Tibetan wife helps him to prepare his colors.
And so, in the corner of the white gallery is being conceived
the ingenious image, many-colored. And each symbol upon it
more clearly defines the Blessed One. Here is the frightful bird-
like Garuda and wise Magi and Ganeshi, elephant of happiness,
* Muntazar — the Messiah now awaited by the Mohammedans.
[67]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
and Chintamani, the Steed, bearing on its back the miraculous
stone, Treasure of the World. A sacred cycle of chosen symbols.
And upon the image and the hands is laid pure gold.
Like our ikon painters, the artist lama chants hymns as he
labors. The chants become more fervent; this means he is
beginning upon the Image itself.
And another wonder occurs, only possible in this land. In
the deep twilight when the waxing moon possesses all things,
one hears through the house the silvery tones of a handmade
flute. In the darkness the artist lama is sitting upon his rug,
playing with rapture before the image of Maitreya-Messiah-
Muntazar.
The Strings of the Earth!
T alai-Pho-Brang.
[68]
Part III
PIR-PANZAL
(1925)
Where have passed the hordes of the great Mongols ? Where
has the lost tribe of Israel concealed itself? Where stands the
“Throne of Solomon”? Where lie the paths of Christ the Wan-
derer? Where glow the bonfires of the Shamans, Bon-po, of
the religion of demons? Where is Shalimar, the gardens of
Jehangir? Where are the roads of Pamir, Lhasa, Khotan?
Where is the mysterious cave, Amarnath? Where is the path
of Alexander the Great to forgotten Taxila ? Where are the walls
of Akbar? Where did Ashvagosha teach? Where did Avan-
tisvamin create ? Where are the citadels of Chandragupta-
Maurya? Where are the stones of wisdom of King Asoka? . . .
All have passed by way of Kashmir. Here lie the ancient ways
of Asia. And each caravan flashes by as a connecting link in the
great body of the East.
Here are the sandy deserts on the way to Peshawar; and the
blue peaks of Sonamarg; and the white slopes of Zoji-La. And
in the flight of the eagles is the same untiring spirit; in the fleet
steed is the same unalterable motion. Nor does the world of
roses and shawls of Kashmir resemble that forgotten and hidden
world of Kashmiri blades.
• • • • •
“Sacre du Printemps” — when we composed it together with
Stravinsky, we could not conceive that Kashmir would greet us
with its very setting. In Ghari, camping out by night, when
the vivid spring sky became afire with stars and the mountains
[69]
ALT AI-HI MALAYA
were azured, we observed rows of fires upon the mountains.
The fires started into motion, separated and strangely circled
about. Then the mountain slopes became aglow with these
fiery processions. And in the village below, dark silhouettes
began to whirl about brandishing resin torches on long staffs.
The flaming circles proclaimed the end of winter frosts. And
the songs proclaimed the Sacred Spring. This is the festival of
the Ninth of March.
• • • • •
“Bulbul,” the nightingale, sings on the apple tree. The cuckoo
reckons out a long life. White linens are spread on the meadow
and a samovar is boiling. Red and yellow apples and sweet
cakes are passed around to those seated upon the spring grass.
The eyes of the violets and the white and yellow narcissus are
woven into a many-hued carpet. At evening, flocks of ducks and
geese completely cover the tiny islands over the lakes. Small
bears steal out on the spring glades. But none fears them — unless
the mother-bear is with her cubs. . . .
The river banks are sloping. A line of boatsmen steer their
canopied boats. . . . Upon a broad road the oxen drag themselves
and the wheels grind along. Three-hundred-year-old plantains
and tall poplars guard the ways. And the teeth of the encoun-
tered travelers gleam often in the smile of greeting.
In the sheds lie the sleighs — veritable Moscow sleighs. In the
yard, a crane screeches above the well. The straw roof is over-
grown with green moss. Along the road are gnarled willow
trees. And the greetings of the children are noisy. But where
is this? Is it in Schuya or Kolomna? It is in Srinagar, in the
“City of the Sun.”
[70]
PIR-PANZAL
Tiny, big-bellied pillars — small ornamental designs — steep little
steps of stone — the gilded roofs of the temple — creaking, orna-
mented window-shutters — rusty locks — low little doors with their
“curtesy” — carved balustrades — slanting tiles on stony floors — the
odor of old lacquer — small windows with diminutive panes.
Where are we then? Is this the Kremlin of Rostov? Are these
the monasteries of Suzdal? Are they the temples of Yaroslavl?
And what of the endless flocks of daws? What of the naked
branches behind the windows? This is the chief palace of the
Maharajah of Kashmir. How curious is everything which re-
mains from antiquity.' But the modern additions are hideous.
Upon the road are many Fords. In the hotel dining room
one sees the faces of Americans. In the jewelry shop, side-by-side,
hang two paintings — one of the view of Delhi, the other the view
of the Moscow Kremlin. Among the crystals into which one
gazes for destiny; among the sapphires of Kashmir and the
Tibetan turquoises, are shimmering green Chinese jadaites — and
like a garden, many-colored are the borders of the embroidered
kaftans. Like precious shawls the rooms of the museum are
strewn with minute Iran-designs and “Gandhara,” belabored by
destiny, unifies the cleft branches of West and East.
In the styles of the temples and mosques; in the angular carved
dragons; in the tentlike, sloping hexagonal tower, is seen an
unexpected combination of the old wooden churches of Norway
and the Chinese pagodas. Out of one well is drawn the Roman-
esque Chimera, the animal ornaments of Altai and the tiny
animals of Chinese Turkestan and China. The Siberian paths
of the nations have carried afar the same meaning of adornment.
The fort of Akbar stands firmly planted. But after you have
climbed the steepnesses and flights, you may perceive that the
[7i]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
old bricks and the claybeaten cement barely hold together. The
arches are ready to give way.
« • • • •
Nishad, the garden of Akbar, occupies the site from the lake
to the hill — a high place. The structures are modest and upon
the corners are the little towers so beloved by him. They are
characterized by simplicity and brightness.
Shalimar — the garden of Jehangir — is also in character with
its possessor, standing “for itself.” There is less of outward show,
but more of luxury — of that luxury which brought the descend-
ants of the Moguls to poverty. The last Mogul, in Delhi, secretly
sold furniture out of the palace and destroyed the valuable fac-
ings of the walls of Shah Jehan and Aurungzeb. Thus ended
the great dynasty.
• • • • •
The weaver of Kashmir accompanied the making of each of
his designs with a special chant. Such a searching for rhythm
reminds us of the great harmony of labor.
No song relates why the mountain “Throne of Solomon” bears
this name. This is a place of such antiquity. Janaka, son of
Asoka, had already dedicated here one of the first Buddhist
temples. Seven centuries later the temple was rebuilt and con-
secrated to Mahadeva. . . . But whence comes the name of
Solomon? The mountain received the name of Solomon from
a legend that Solomon, desiring a respite from the conventions
of a sovereign’s life and from the burdens of his court, trans-
ported himself upon a flying carpet to this mountain with his
favorite wife. Here, again, we come upon the mention of that
“flying apparatus” possessed by Solomon. A similar mountain
is in Turkestan and in Persia.
[72]
PIR-PANZ AL
It is not alone the mountain “Throne of Solomon” which
transports the consciousness into biblical spheres. In the valley
of Sindh the prophet Elijah is reverenced in a special manner.
Most stirring are the legends; how the prophet sitting in his cave
saves fishermen and travelers. Under various aspects, at times
benevolent, at times stormy, the prophet appears to defend the
works of justice and piety. Mohammedans and Hindus, divided
by many differences, equally reverence the prophet Elijah.
Purple iris will always recall Moslem cemeteries. They are
covered with these flowers. But there is also joy. The lilacs
have blossomed, lilies of the valley are nodding and the wild
cherry tree glistens.
After the “miniature design” of modern Kashmir, the eye
rests before the ruins of Martand and Avantipur. Here, also,
the ninth and tenth centuries have flowered. Here the solemn
fantasy of the Asiatic cradle of the Romanesque merges with the
joyous cult of Vishnu. One feels also that here, against the back-
ground of the sapphire foothills of the Himalayas, have stood
mighty structures. They are but partly revealed. The sloping,
massed hillocks conceal entire palaces and cities. The spectacle
of the might of Asia is not yet revealed. Gleams of it only
may be noted upon its fragmentary pages. Loving hands will
complete the beautiful realization.
• • • • •
“Hail to Thee, Hakaura, our Horus, God of Existence, De-
fender of the Land, bridling the desert by the serpent of His
Uraeus, dispatching the arrow without the aid of the bow, as
does the Goddess Sekhmet. The king’s word would turn the
Asians to flight.” So speaks the hymn in honor of Senusert the
Third. Two phrases have a special meaning: “Shooting the ar-
row without a bow” — action at a distance. “Bridler of the desert
by the serpent of His Uraeus” — reminds one of the most an-
[73]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
cient cult of Asia — the wife and serpent. The snakelike capitals
of the pillars of Asia and of the Mayans speak of the same
cult of the wise wife. The old plaque found in Kashmir tells
the same tale: In the middle sits the king of serpents with the
magic flower in his hand. The king is endowed with two pairs
of hands, dark and light, because wisdom has a complete armor.
Before the king is a woman with a veiled head, and to her the
king entrusts wisdom. As the background to this entire group
is a multitude of snakes which have risen and united their
heads. And around this central image is a procession of
individual figures of rulers each wearing around his neck the
image of the serpent. This sign of wisdom forces the human-
like and animal-like djins to serve and help the owners of the
ancient sign. Into a long trumpet far-off the djins transmit mes-
sages. Djins bring flowers for the adornment of life. Djins, in
the guise of animals, transport themselves through the air. They
bring caskets with gems. They are present in the guise of senti-
nels. So is preserved the ancient symbol of wisdom.
“Gulidjan-Marda” — “Illo-Aladin-Shabasha” — “Illaila-Suleiman”
— thus the rowers call to each other. Oars with corded blades
cut the yellow waters,
• • • • •
Modern Srinagar is not more than one hundred and fifty to
two hundred years old. Of the ancient “City of the Sun” nothing
remains. The old mosque remains only as a shell. In the
ugly rivets of the “wharf” are seen traces of the reliefs of the
excellent stones of the ninth and eleventh centuries. There are
separate fragments; nothing binds them with the dirty small
houses of the present day.
The old bridges must soon crumble. Who originated the
canals of Kashmir? Who lined the roads with so many poplar
hedges ? Was this not done by some of the nomads from Central
[74]
PIR-PANZAL
Asia, where winter necessitates the marking of the paths, and
where canals are needed for irrigating the sands? Where did
these shi\ara — the light, gondolalike boats — originate?
Along the even bank one travels at the end of the tow-rope.
And the yellow banks remind one of the Volga or the Mississippi.
The river Jhelum is the nerve of Kashmir.
Vular is the largest lake, the most beautiful and the most
stormy. For two nights our boat was dangerously driven against
the clay bank. We should still have remained there, still be
working there, were it not that the “ark” might have cracked.
On this lake everything is so attractive. Toward the west is Pir-
Panzal, glimmering with its snows. To the north and east are
the massive mountains. To the south stretch the distances of
Srinagar. Before sunset an astonishing Valhalla rises up over
Pir-Panzal, and in the morning the eastern mountains are crystal
blue. Upon the sandbanks flocks are herding and each horse is
visible upon the far-off bank, so unusually transparent is the air.
Near the eastern bank is seen a small island on which stand
the ruins of a temple, and often the fakirs and the sadhus in
meditation are seated there. The world of religion is less ap-
parent in Kashmir.
The details of the ruined temple on the island could be trans-
ported into any Romanesque cathedral, for the Goths wandered
far, and everywhere sowed the seeds of their style. The adorn-
ment of the women’s caps recalls the Gothic fibula save that
instead of red enamel we see red glass inlaid in copper.
• • • • •
Around the boat soar lovely little swallows. On deck, the
hoopoes strut about. Above the fields the song of the skylark
resounds. In the center of the village is a cemetery — a hillock
strewn with stones, like our northern zjalnil{. Upon the hillock
is a chapel with a green, tentlike roof. Venerable, scrawny plan-
tains are standing guard over the quietude. Near the villages
[75]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
are the remains of temples and “town-sites” in ruins — sandy
mounds with their sand-strewn antiquity. Toward evening the
rowers commence their drawling songs — “like the burla\s.”
And packs of dogs pierce the air with their howls. From the far
distant North to the South one finds the same structure of life.
It is amazing!
• • • • •
On the northeast of Lake Vular the mountains converge. In
this pass there is a kind of compelling power. The village, Banda-
pur, has quite an individual character, and when you reach the
post office you can understand the importance of the site. Here,
to the mountains, turns the road to Gilgit. You pass up to
the first ascent and watch the windings of the rising path. Upon
the peak of the very summit is the first night camp. Then on,
the path lies first along the very edge where the snow still
gleams white as a narrow strip, afterwards sinking far down into
a new gateway. Gilgit and Chitral are especially guarded. If
the road toward Ladak is difficult, then Gilgit and Chitral are
positively forbidding. Violet and purple rocks; and snow peaks,
beautifully blue. Each turbaned rider attracts one’s attention; is
he not perhaps from the North? Each pack of loaded ponies
draws one’s eye after them. A significant corner!
The Russian words — sandu\, \araul, samovar, tchai, chapra\,
sudi-sudi, kavarda\, \olpa\* — and many other words, resound
strangely but distinctly in the speech of Kashmir. The braided
bark-shoes remind one of other northern paths.
The boatman is preparing a Kashmiri dinner for us. Six cooks
arrive. The table is strewn with blue iris. Since morning, except
for tea, we have received nothing. Sobra, his brother Ramsana,
* Trunk, help, tea-kettle, tea, horse-blanket, here-here, upside down, pointed
cap.
[76]
PI R-P ANZ AL
skillful Ibrahim and other unknown brothers and uncles are here
— and even perhaps the hundred-year-old grandfather himself
sitting with his hookah in the kitchen-boat. All are busying
themselves over some mystery. Finally, at seven in the evening
the mysterious dinner makes its appearance. Twenty-seven
courses are served in turn and each has to be tasted. The sum of
the inventiveness of this sextet of cooks comprises: Almond soup,
Namki polaw, Mehtee, Tabak Maz, Kabab, Roogan Yosch,
Dupiaz, Batha Kurma, Abgosh, Alubukhar Kurma, Chana
Kurma, Marzewangan Kurma, Subzee Kurma, Namki Kabab
Akhtabi, Koofta, Koofta Tikea, Dampokhta Kokarpootoo,
Kandee Roogan Yosch, Metla polaw, Thula Shoom, Rewash,
Methazoont, Metha Thool, Deesee Alu, Plireenee, Thula Halwa
— thus is termed this apotheosis of mutton and spices. And how
is it possible to tell them that just the ingeniousness of the din-
ner is so foreign to us!
Kashmiri singing: Seven men in white turbans, one red-headed,
with long sitara. Three have saazes. Further on sits the most
skilled one, before two tables. At the corner are two singers,
and in the center a woman singer, in blue shawl and silver brace-
lets and strings of beads. They sing songs of Persia and Arabia;
Urdu and Kashmiri songs. And, as in the reliefs of Assyria, the
woman raises her forefinger or her left palm or crosses her hands
upon her temples. Sometimes — like a “duckling” — she jumps
up and softly runs around the circle. The Persian song “Suram”
is the song of farewell and eternal remembrance. The “Shakh-
naz,” the Arabian song: “The richest one will not carry his wealth
with him beyond the grave.” Or: “When Christ ascended —
all servitors extolled him.” And the song of Urdu runs: “Two
friends — it matters not how distant — will think the same thoughts.
The world is naught — and all must depart from it.” “Kochur,”
the Kashmiri song, says: “Thou walkest upon the road but art
[77]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
not visible to me. Thou gavest me the wine of life and walkest
away from me. Everything depends on God.” “If I see but
one man or woman, I already behold the entire world.”
“Kamach,” the Kashmiri song, runs: “They say their praises
of Christ in all manner of words. Better was He than sun and
moon.”
And thus, on a red carpet, eight Moslems, of their own ac-
cord, glorify Christ and creation until the hour of midnight.
Following them, all the boatmen move in time with the white
turbans and sway as they chant. And the saazes drone like the
whispers of the forest. And our Confucian Chinese repeats over
and over in Tibetan ya\podu, meaning “good.” And then the
Victrola resounds with Rimsky-Korsakoff’s “Song of Lei,” sung
by Chaliapin, and the turbans of the Kashmiris nod understand-
ing^. There is one consciousness! The program finishes with
the “Song of Akbar.” And the entire midnight has passed with-
out the least friction. And what has been mutually understood
is accepted with a kindly smile.
Can one change such a communion of understanding into the
vulgarity of ugliness? Possibly one can. We were shown the
shameful letters which were sent to the natives by foreigners —
shameful questions of the flesh. Can one substitute for the smile
the mawling grimace? Of course it is not difficult. One can
invoke a whole horror of ugliness. One can destroy this feeling
of universal good. One can depart with the impress of searing
banality. One can always go into the darkness of ignorance and
prejudice.
• • • • •
As in Sikhim, so in Kashmir, one is amazed by the spiritual
understanding. One has hardly enough time to crystallize one’s
thoughts, when one’s companion has made his complementary
gesture. And how many fine thoughts one can sow by way of
the intuition!
[78]
PIR-PANZAL
Once again rhythmically the rowers call to each other —
“Amposch-pamposch” — “Dazgir-Kashmir” — “Shahan-Shah-Padi-
Shah.” And the meaning of these calls is “The land of roses,”
“The temple,” “King of Kings,” “Lotos,” “Man,” and “All is
well.” . . .
* • • • •
We live on the foothills of Pir-Panzal. The storms, continuous,
blinding, last three days in succession. The hailstones are the
size of dove’s eggs. The stars are like candles. And each week
there are earthquakes.
In Siberia, upon the steep hillocks are similar town-sites girdled
by thundering torrents. Cedar and pine groves austerely guard
these dwellings and high above glimmer the white caps of the
mountains. Here are woodpeckers, turtle-doves, orioles, musk-
deer and mountain-goats. In just this same way, we live in the
yellow, unpainted sturdy house. If there is sun, all is fragrant
wdth evergreen, but if there is storm . . . For three days it thun-
dered and the glare of lightning blinded one cruelly during the
night. Rings of lightning! The gushing rains poured down, and
hail suddenly blanched the green hills. What a storm!
The series “Banners of the East” unfolded: i. Buddha the
Conqueror before the spring of life. 2. Moses the Leader upon
the summit, surrounded by the glory of the heavens. 3. Sergius
the Builder, laboring with his own forces. 4. Confucius the Just,
the traveler in exile. 5. Yen-No-Guyo-Dja, Friend of the Trav-
elers (Japan). 6. Milarepa, the One Who Hearkened — at sun-
rise comprehending the voices of the Devas. 7. rDorje the Daring,
who stood facing Mahakala himself. 8. Sahara the Beneficent
Arrow, never slackening in its missions of benevolence. 9.
Mohammed upon Mount Hira (the message of the Archangel
Gabriel). 10. Nagarjuna, Conqueror of the Serpent, beholding
upon the lake the vision of the Ruler of the Nagi. 11. Oirot the
[79]
ALTAI. HIMALAYA
Messenger of the White Burkhan, the legend of Altai. And
those already in the Museum: 12. Mother of the World. 13. Signs
of Christ. 14. Lao-Tze. 15. Tsong-kha-pa. 16. Padma Sambhava.
17. Chalice. 18. The Ancient Serpent.
In Mongolia there is a custom of great antiquity. In moments
of national disaster or danger, the lamas would ascend the high
mountain and with conjurations would scatter white paper horses
— the horse as a symbol of Buddha, of strength and happiness.
And these steeds of Valkyrie, the resplendent horses, would float
out, whirling, and carrying help to the unknown stricken ones.
Procopius was wont to sit on the Dvina blessing the unknown
seafarers: and these lamas upon the mountain ridges of Asia
have sent horses to the far-off stricken ones. In this sending to
the Unknown is seen the same concern for the general happiness.
Such customs of lamas are precious. This is not “sitting beneath
a tree,” nor requests flung into space ; not the ornamental gestures
of a ritual ; but a “command” for help to the far-off stricken ones
— a heavenly voice demanding that human ills be alleviated.
Two other touching images must not be forgotten: Mani, the
founder of so-called Manicheism, in the third century was cruci-
fied upon the gates of the city in Persia for his belief in the
synthesis of teaching and for his idea of the Commune. The
other one, Guru Kambala, gave his head as a symbol of devotion
and service — and Kambala and horses, in their essence, both enter
into the “Banners of the East.”
Manicheism lived long. In Italy itself, Manicheans, persecuted,
existed until the fourteenth century. Perhaps it is from them that
Benozzo Gozzoli adopted the themes of the Pisan frescoes, of
the four encounters of the Prince Siddhartha-Buddha, which
enlightened his consciousness. Instead of the Hindu Ruler,
there is a cavalcade of Italian signori. And in certain Eastern
[80]
conceptions, as if somewhere from the depths of understanding,
one perceives the characteristic fantasy of Gozzoli with his
sumptuous ornate rocks and his pine trees; with his gilded horse-
blankets and staffs bearing vivid banners. Tamed “Pardus” of
the East sit behind the saddles, and the turban gracefully sur-
rounds the helmet, as upon the coat-of-arms (insignia) of cru-
saders. What is it? The echoes of crusades, about which even
Herri met de Bles dreamt? Or has the more ancient organiza-
tion of synthesis, of Mani believers, penetrated and linked the
consciousness of East and West. How many unexplained mani-
festations! How many names slandered! How many truly
enlightened researches are buried into one heap with the cast-off
refuse. Future studies and researches must be undertaken in an
unprejudiced spirit with an eye only to truth and justice.
Another detail linking East and West: Do you remember the
Turfan Mother of the World, with the child? Perhaps Nestori-
ans or Manicheans left this image in the center of Asia. Or
more correctly, this image has remained, transmitted from times
still more remote. Kali, or Kwan Yin — who knows how
many ages old they are? Behind them is concealed the wife
and the serpent. The antiquity of the symbol is already incal-
culable. Not toward the page of the Bible, not toward the sym-
bols of the Kabala, does this image point: Continents no longer
existing have molded the beauty of the Mother of the World —
this light-bearing essence. Only ignorance insists on the lack
of knowledge of antiquity.
• • • • •
You may wonder how we fare without theaters. But we have
drama here each day — only without a stage, in actual life. Per-
haps a Chinese theater — with legends about unheard-of peoples;
perhaps the threatening monologue of the policeman; perhaps
the ill-omened ballet of the Kashmiri merchants — Schaitans;
[ 81 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
perhaps the drama of a boat beaten by the waves; perhaps the
procession of horses or the peaceful evening songs, or a furioso
of hail and earthquake. Nor does one have to hang frayed
curtains, nor must one make up one’s face, when the whole world
participates in the mystery of evolution; when renewed under-
standing triumphantly enters into life, in new creations of uni-
versal beauty.
In Mongolia the march was proclaimed by the sending of an
arrow to the Prince-noyon. And the arrow which came flying
to Feodor-Tyron also came from the East.
• • • • •
George rides upon a horse from Yarkand; and the Chinese
and I on horses from Khotan. My horse has a star; the Yarkand
horse bears a Chinese brand, the cross within a square — a sign
of the coat of arms of Tian.
[82]
Part IV
LADAK
(i925)
Indra, Agni and Surya — air, fire and the sun! The Hindu
Trimurti-Trinity remains behind. The ancient Sarasvati of the
Vedas, the great Ind, leads us to its snowy sources. If the Ganges
is as a greeting — the seat, contemplation — then the Ind suggests
motion, unswervingness, impetuosity. And how alluring and
unfailing have been the ways of the movement of nations through
the Hindu-Kush and Pamir!
Again a caravan. Again, days and dates are readily forgotten.
The character of the day becomes more important than its number
or name. Like the Egyptians who named the years according
to their qualities — “the year of battle,” or “the year of lean crops”
— one marks only the quality of the days. Perhaps, the day of the
horse — when the mounts fell through the snowy bridge; the
night of a wolf — when the packs stealthily approached the camps;
the dawn of the eagle — when the golden eagle with a whir of
wings sped upon the tent; the sunset of the castle — when as
though sprung from the fiery copper peak, the vision of a castle
arose unexpectedly. In place of a turban, from out the stone
there rose before us the shaggy cap — the way toward the land
of Buddha.
The qualities of Buddha are as follows: Sakya Muni — the wise
one of the clan of Sakya; Sakyasinha — Sakya the lion; Bhagavat
— the Blessed; Saddha — the Teacher; Jina — the Conqueror.
[83]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Thus spoke Buddha to the zealots and hypocrites: “Your rules
are degraded and ridiculous. One among you walks naked;
another will not begin to eat from a pitcher or platter, or refuses
to sit at the table between two companions or two dishes. An-
other will not accept alms from the house where lives a pregnant
woman or where he encounters a dog. Some will not eat from
two vessels and at the seventh gulp refrain from eating. One
will not sit upon a bench or mat. One lies naked upon
thorned plants or upon cow’s dung. What do you expect, vol-
untary workers, for your ‘hard’ labors? You await alms and
respect from the laity — and when you achieve this reward, you
become deeply wedded to the comforts of the temporary life and
do not desire to renounce them. When you see visitors approach-
ing from a distance you immediately assume the appearance of
having been discovered in profound meditation. When you are
offered coarser victuals you hand them on to others, keeping for
yourself all the dainty morsels. You succumb to vices and pas-
sion; you assume the mask of modesty. Not such, is the true
asceticism.”
It took Buddha six years to convert Kashyapa. He even lit
the fires of altars which were strange to him before the stubborn-
ness of the set convictions of Kashyapa could be broken, and
Buddha could add to new teaching the “old authority.” For
whenever beauty, scientific reason and vital enlightenment are
invoked, the “old fortresses” are especially invulnerable. One
must realize all the difficulties of Buddha in breaking down preju-
dices, if it took six years for one man to absorb the beautiful
simplicity before he could extinguish the useless fire of unnec-
essary superstitious offerings.
His was the task to live for eighty years constantly teaching;
to see how under one’s very eyes the teaching was perverted; to
[84]
LADAK
realize how many rulers and priests accepted the teachings only
out of self-interested motive; to foresee the shells of a new con-
ventionality already prepared. . . .
He who contained within himself the understanding of the
uselessness of power, exclaimed: “Go, oh beggars, carry salva-
tion and benevolence to the people.” In the one word, “beggars,”
is contained his complete gospel. The time has come when from
out the gilding of the idol there stands forth the image of
Buddha, the great teacher, who preaches against killing, against
intoxication and excesses. This powerful image appears, sum-
moning men to a revaluation of values, to labor and to achieve-
ment.
Many times the teaching of Buddha was purified, but it was
again quickly covered with the soot of prejudices. Its vitality was
disfigured into a heap of treatises and of metaphysical nomen-
clature. Why, then, be astonished if there still remain erect
the walls of the monastery of Lamayuru, stronghold of the faith
of Bon-po with its Shaman invocations, founded long before the
birth of Buddha?
Nevertheless this brought about a healthy realization: they be-
came accustomed to purify the teachings. Of course it was not
the heralded synods in Rajagriha, Vaisali and Patna which
brought back the teachings to their original simplicity of the
community. But strong-spirited individual teachers sincerely
tried to reveal again the beautiful image of the teaching: Atisha,
defeating convention, wrestled with the somber survival of the
sorcery of Bon-po. Ashvagosha, the creator of the entire Ma-
hayana of the north, applied the form of dramatic productions
for the sake of conviction and visualization. The bold Nagarjuna
reaped wisdom on Lake Yum Tso from his discourses with
Nagi, “King of Serpents.” The Tibetan Orpheus, Milarepa, sur-
[85]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
rounded by animals, hearkened to the prophetic voices of the
mountains. Padma Sambhava conquered the forces of nature
— powerful figure, distorted by the conventions of the Red
Caps. The clear and active Tsong-kha-pa was beloved of the
entire north as founder of the Yellow Caps. And many others
— solitary figures — who understood the predicted evolution and
purged the gospel of Buddha from the dust of conventional
forms. Their works, again, were covered by the musty layer of
mechanical ritual. The conventional mind of the “man of every-
day,” though he accepted the teaching of Buddha, tried to clothe
it with his own prejudiced understanding.
Neither from Alara Kalama, or from Uddaka Ramaputta could
Buddha find a saving decision. The reformer, who strove
toward reality, could not be satisfied by the misinterpretations
of the Rig-Veda. Buddha walked far off to the secret places
of the mountains. The legends bring the bold searcher even
to Altai — and the legend of the White Burkhan is being pre-
served upon Altai in all its reality. Near the mysterious Uruvela,
Buddha approaches the simplest expression of all his attainments.
And on the shores of Naranjana he is illumined by the decision
to pronounce the words concerning general welfare: of the re-
nunciation of the personal, of the significance of labor for the
general well-being, and of the meaning of knowledge. To estab-
lish a scientific approach to religion was a true attainment. To
expose the self-interested priests and Brahmins was the summit
of fearlessness. To reveal the true levers of hidden human forces
was difficult beyond expression.
In the conception of the evolution of humanity, the figure of
Buddha, the Enlightened One, takes an unquestionably beautiful
place.
[86]
LADAK
Buddha had to hear bodily the tremor of destruction of his
native city, Kapilavastu. Confucius had to tread the path of
exile from place to place. And his cart in which he wandered is
placed in a Temple together with his works and musical instru-
ments. It is not to be wondered at, because at the base of the
teachings of Confucius lies the same idea of cooperation. Let
us remember his teachings: “When the hearts of mortals shall be
kindled by love, then the whole world will be as one family.
All men will in themselves be one man, and all things, by virtue
of the astonishing mutual order and union, will appear as one
and the same element.” . . . “Hypocrisy is the most hateful
vice.” . . . “He who only covers himself by the semblance of
virtue resembles an evil-doer who in the daytime appears as an
honest man and at night busies himself with stealing the goods
of his neighbor.” . . .
“Beware of those who make themselves the exponents of virtue
rather than its followers. Be not deceived by their scientific argu-
ments. For although they may be understood as the expression
of the soul’s convictions, they are nevertheless only the fruits of
a corrupt mind and the intellectually corroded impulses of the
heart. Those who discourse with apparent sensitiveness on hu-
mility, on general well-being, are not always examples of those
virtues.” . . .
“Temperance, simplicity in attire, propriety, the pursuit of
science and art, aversion to flatterers, love of the humble, lack
of greed, prudence, steadfastness, righteousness, goodness, are
the prescribed virtues.” . . .
“Acquire science and the fine arts. Apply the precepts of
wisdom.” . . . “The avaricious one, himself being restless, be-
comes for others a terrifying and disgusting object. Let prudence
dictate thy actions.” . . .
“To discriminate between men, whether they be good or evil,
there is no better way than to look into the pupil of the eye;
[87]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
because the pupil of the eye cannot conceal the vice which is
hidden in the heart.” . . .
“Do not let the humble ones feel your high position nor display
to your equals the preeminence of your merits.” . . .
“There is nothing which cannot be obtained by persistence.
Each day I can bring a basket of earth, and if I persist in it,
finally I shall raise up a mountain.” . . .
“Man must become the coworker of heaven and earth.” . . .
“All beings nurture each other. The laws of the movements
of constellations are carried out simultaneously without impeding
each other.” . . .
“The action of heaven and earth is divided into endless cur-
rents, influencing each being individually; their general action
effects great transformations — therein is the greatness of heaven
and earth.”
“Conscientiousness, humaneness and valor are three uni-
versal qualities; but in order to apply them, sincerity is needed.”
“The man who has not determined his destination cannot be
considered a great man.”
“Is there not a panacea for all that exists? Is this not love to
humanity? Do not do unto another what you do not wish for
yourself.”
“If a man can govern himself, what difficulty could he en-
counter in governing a state?”
“A sage is firm but not stubborn.” . . . “Be slow in words and
quick in action.”
“A wise one expects all from himself; the mediocre one, all
from others.”
“I love the glow of virtue which does not proclaim itself in
loud words and pompous movements. Noise and proclamations
are secondary things in the reformation of peoples ”
“The ignorant one who prides himself on his knowledge, the
nonentity, the one desiring freedom excessively, men who return
[88]
From a painting by Nicholas Roerich Roerich Museum,
CONFUCIUS THE JUST
(Banners of the East Scries)
LADAK
to the ancient customs, all are subject to unavoidable misfortunes.”
“An archer provides an example for a sage. When he does
not reach the center of the target he searches for the cause within
himself.”
Proclaiming the general well-being, Confucius was compelled
to have his cart of flight ever at hand. . . .
Our old Chinese speaks in whispers about Confucius. These
old thoughts seem like the footprints of ancient Chinese travelers,
who have given us so much useful information about India and
all Central Asia.
• • • • •
If behind the present idol of Buddha it is difficult to perceive
the lofty image of Buddha the Teacher, then it is still more unex-
pected to hear in Tibetan mountains beautiful words about Jesus.
Yet Buddhists preserve the teachings of Jesus, and lamas pay
reverence to Jesus who passed and taught here.
There have been distinct glimpses about a second visit of Christ
to Egypt. But why is it incredible that after that, he could have
been in India ? Whoever doubts too completely that such legends
about the Christ life exist in Asia, probably does not realize what
an immense influence the Nestorians have had in all parts of
Asia and how many so-called Apocryphal legends they spread
in the most ancient times. And then, how much truth is veiled
in the so-called Apocryphal legends!
Many remember the lines from the book of Notovitch, but it
is still more wonderful to discover, on this site, in several variants,
the same version of the legend of Issa. The local people know
nothing of any published book but they know the legend and
with deep reverence they speak of Issa. One might wonder what
relation Moslems, Hindus or Buddhists have with Issa. But it is
still more significant to see how vital are great ideas and how
they penetrate even the most remote places. Never may one
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discover the source of such legends. But even if they originated
from ancient Nestorian Apocrypha, at present it is instructive to
see the widespread and deep consideration paid to the subject.
It is significant to hear a local inhabitant, a Hindu, relate how
Issa preached beside a small pool near the bazaar under a great
tree, which now no longer exists. In such purely physical in-
dications you may see how seriously this subject is regarded.
• • • • •
Legends say that Jesus was not killed by the Jewish people
but by representatives of the Roman government. The empire
and the wealthy killed the Great Teacher who carried light to
the working and poor ones. The path of attainment of light!
Let us hearken to the way in which they speak of Jesus in
Asia: In the legends which have the estimated antiquity of many
centuries, it is related that Issa (Jesus) secretly left his parents
and together with the merchants of Jerusalem turned toward the
Indus to become perfected in the highest Teaching.
It is related that, “He passed his time in several ancient cities
of India such as Benares. All loved him because Issa dwelt in
peace with Vaishas and Shudras whom he instructed and helped.
“But the Brahmins and Kshatriyas told him that Brahma for-
bade those to approach who were created out of his womb and
feet. The Vaishas were allowed to listen to the Vedas only on
holidays and the Shudras were forbidden not only to be present
at the reading of the Vedas, but could not even look at them.
“Issa said that man had filled the temples with his abomina-
tions. In order to pay homage to metals and stones, man sacri-
ficed his fellows in whom dwells a spark of the Supreme Spirit.
Man demeans those who labor by the sweat of their brows, in
order to gain the good will of the sluggard who sits at the lavishly
set board. But they who deprive their brothers of the common
blessing shall be themselves stripped of it.
[90]
“Vaishas and Shudras were struck with astonishment and
asked what they could perform. Issa bade them ‘Worship not
the idols. Do not consider yourself first. Do not humiliate your
neighbor. Help the poor. Sustain the feeble. Do evil to no one.
Do not covet that which you do not possess and which is pos-
sessed by others.’
“Many, learning of such words, decided to kill Issa. But Issa,
forewarned, departed from this place by night.
“Afterward, Issa went into Nepal and into the Himalaya moun-
tains.” . . .
“ ‘Well, perform for us a miracle,’ demanded the servitors of
the Temple. Then Issa replied to them: ‘Miracles made their
appearance from the very day when the world was created. He
who cannot behold them is deprived of the greatest gift of life.
But woe to you, enemies of men, woe unto you, if you await that
He should attest his power by miracle.”’
“Issa taught that men should not strive to behold the Eternal
Spirit with one’s own eyes but to feel it with the heart, and to
become a pure and worthy soul.” . . . “Not only shall you not
make human offerings, but you must not slaughter animals,
because all is given for the use of man. Do not steal the goods
of others, because that would be usurpation from your near one.
Do not cheat, that you may in turn not be cheated.” Issa said:
“Beware, ye, who divert men from the true path and who fill
the people with superstitions and prejudices, who blind the vision
of the seeing ones, and who preach subservience to material
things.”
Upon his return to the land of Israel, Issa taught: “Do not
be subject to despair; do not desert your homes; do not defile
the nobility of your feelings; be imbued with hope and with
patience. Raise up the fallen and sustain the hungry; succor
the ailing in order that you be entirely pure and just upon that
last day which I am preparing for you. If you would perform
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
deeds of benevolence and love, perform them with a generous
heart. And let there not be in these deeds the hope of gain or
any calculations of profit.”
The legends continue thus: “Then Pilate, ruler of Jerusalem,
gave orders to lay hands upon the preacher Issa and to deliver
him to the judges, without however, arousing the displeasure
of the people.”
“But Issa taught: ‘Do not seek straight paths in darkness,
possessed by fear. But gather force and support each other. He
who supports his neighbor strengthens himself.
“ ‘I tried to revive the laws of Moses in the hearts of the people.
And I say unto you that you do not understand their true mean-
ing because they do not teach revenge but forgiveness. But the
meaning of these laws is distorted.’ ”
“Then the ruler sent to Issa his disguised servants that they
should watch his actions and report to him about his words to
the people.”
“ ‘Thou just man,’ said the disguised servant of the ruler of
Jerusalem approaching Issa, ‘Teach us, should we fulfill the will
of Caesar or await the approaching deliverance?’
“But Issa, recognizing the disguised servants, said, ‘I did not
foretell unto you that you would be delivered from Caesar; but
I said that the soul which was immersed in sin would be deliv-
ered from sin.’”
“At this time, an old woman approached the crowd, but was
pushed back. Then Issa said, ‘Reverence Woman, mother of the
universe; in her lies the truth of creation. She is the foundation
of all that is good and beautiful. She is the source of life and
death. Upon her depends the existence of man, because she is
the sustenance of his labors. She gives birth to you in travail,
she watches over your growth. Bless her. Honor her. Defend
her. Love your wives and honor them, because to-morrow they
shall be mothers, and later — progenitors of a whole race. Their
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LADAK
love ennobles man, soothes the embittered heart and tames the
beast. Wife and mother — they are the adornments of the uni-
verse.’
“ ‘As light divides itself from darkness, so does woman possess
the gift to divide in man good intent from the thought of evil.
Your best thoughts must belong to woman. Gather from them
your moral strength, which you must possess to sustain your
near ones. Do not humiliate her, for therein you will humiliate
yourselves. And all which you will do to mother, to wife, to
widow or to another woman in sorrow — that shall you also do
for the Spirit.’
“So taught Issa; but the ruler Pilate ordered one of his servants
to make accusation against him.
“Said Issa: ‘Not far hence is the time when by the Highest
Will the people will become purified and united into one family.’
“And then turning to the ruler, he said ‘Why demean thy
dignity and teach thy subordinates to live in deceit when even
without this thou couldst also have had the means of accusing
an innocent one ?’ ”
Thus the legends of Asia weave such an image of Jesus, so
ennobled and near to all nations. And Asia preserves in its
mountains such legends. And it is not astonishing that the
teachings of Jesus and Buddha are leading all nations into one
family. But beautiful it is, that the light-giving idea of unity is
expressed so clearly. And who shall be opposed to this idea?
Who will lessen the simplest and most beautiful decision of
life ? And the earthly Unity is so easily and scientifically merging
into the great Unity of all worlds. The commandments of Jesus
and of Buddha lie upon one shelf. And the signs of ancient
Sanskrit and of Pali unite all aspirations.
Another version also speaks about the life of Jesus in Tibet:
“Near Lhasa was a temple of teaching with a wealth of manu-
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
scripts. Jesus was to acquaint himself with them. Meng-ste, a
great sage of all the East, was in this temple.”
“Finally Jesus reached a mountain pass and in the chief city
of Ladak, Leh, he was joyously accepted by monks and people
of the lower class.” “And Jesus taught in the monasteries and
in the bazaars (the market places); whever the simple people
gathered — there he taught.”
“Not far from this place lived a woman whose son had died
and she brought him to Jesus. And in the presence of a multi-
tude, Jesus laid his hand on the child, and the child rose
healed. And many brought their children and Jesus laid his
hands upon them, healing them.”
“Among the Ladakis, Jesus passed many days, teaching them.
And they loved him and when the time of his departure came
they sorrowed as children.”
• • • • •
Said Jesus of skilled singers: “Whence is their talent and their
power ? For in one short life they could not possibly accumulate
a quality of voice and a knowledge of the laws of harmonies.
Are these miracles ? No, because all things take place as a result
of natural laws. Many thousands of years ago these people already
molded their harmonies and their qualities. And they come
again to learn still more from varied manifestations.”
• • • • •
Still many other legends and manuscripts relate of Issa in Asia.
• • • • •
After the vital conception of general well-being indicated by
Jesus and preserved by Buddhists, one cannot but recall the words
of Eusebius in his book, “Life of Constantine”: “In order to
attach to Christianity greater attraction in the eyes of the nobility
the priests adopted the outer garments and adornments which
were used in pagan cults.” Every one who knows the cult of
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Mithra can appreciate the justice of this remark. A devout neo-
Platonist and worshiper of the ancient philosophy, Clement of
Alexandria, taught Christian bishops.
Ignorance! Russian princes perished in the tents of Khans
for their refusal to reverence the image of Buddha — yet at the
same time the monasteries of Tibet were already preserving the
wonderful lines about Jesus. Cyril of Alexandria brought about
the destruction of the woman ascetic Hypatia, but it was to her
own pupil, Cinesius, that the bishopric of Ptolemy was offered
even before he accepted baptism.
Superstition! Jerome advised the newly converted Christians
to trample upon the body of their pagan mother.
Cynicism! Pope Leo X exclaimed, “How useful to us is this
allegory of Christ!”
It should not be forgotten that Origen, who knew the mean-
ing of the ancient mysteries and understood the true significance
of the teaching of Jesus, even he could speak in the words of
“The Acts”: “And all the believers were together and held
everything in united possession. And the estates which were sold
and all properties were distributed to each according to his need.
And each day, dwelling unitedly and breaking bread in their
homes, they partook of their food with joy and simplicity of the
heart.”
Origen understood why this general well-being was important
and saw profoundly into the truth. Because of this, the Church,
sometimes extremely liberal in bestowing the title of saint, refused
him this title; but even enemies did not refuse to call Origen a
teacher. For he approached the teaching scientifically and did
not fear to speak of what was evident to him.
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Of what was Origen accused? “Lives of the Saints” thus
speaks of him: “Origen, the wonder of his age by reason of the
prodigiousness of his mind and the profundity of his erudition,
was condemned for heresy in two Alexandrian Councils and,
after his death, in the Council of Constantinople. Origen did not
think correctly about many truths of the Christian Church. Ex-
pounding the non-gentile teachings of the preexistence of the soul,
he did not reflect properly upon Christ, believing that a certain
number of spiritual beings of equal worth were created, of whom
one strove with such flaming love that he became united with
the Highest Word and became its bearer upon earth. Holding
to the heretical belief in the incarnation of the God- Word and
the creation of the world, Origen did not rightly comprehend
the death of Christ by crucifixion, representing it as something
which had its spiritual counterpart in a spiritual world. He
attributed too much to the acts of natural forces with which our
nature is gifted. . . .” — Admirable were the councils which could
speak against the infinite cosmic meaning of matter!
Sergius, Builder of Communities, forebade his coworkers to
accept alms. Food and other articles might be accepted only in
exchange for labor. Hungering, himself, he offered his labor.
The building up of communities and enlightenment alone pre-
occupied this remarkable man. His refusal of the office of Me-
tropolite and his refusal to wear precious metals appear in his
life as natural acts, without any pose. His life was one of inde-
fatigable labor ; he chose young, completely unknown coworkers ;
he preached simplicity, as above, so below. The refusal of per-
sonal property was not because of any command, but because
of his realization of the harm of this idea. In the ranks of
builders of communities, Sergius retains a great place.
They are not so numerous — these builders of a life which re-
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LADAK
sponds in its inner meaning to the future evolution. And we
should carefully record these names of future illumination, ex-
tending their lists until our day.
One of the great Mahatmas of India says:
“You were told that our knowledge was limited to this solar
system: ergo, as philosophers who desired to remain worthy of
the name, we could not either deny or affirm the existence of
what you termed a supreme, omnipotent, intelligent Being of some
sort beyond the limits of that solar system. But if such an
existence is not absolutely impossible, yet, unless the uniformity
of Nature’s laws breaks at those limits we maintain that it is
highly improbable. Nevertheless, we deny most emphatically the
position of agnosticism in this direction and as regards the solar
system. Our doctrine knows no compromises. Neither affirms
or denies, for it teaches only that which it knows to be the truth,
therefore, we deny God both as philosophers and Buddhists.
We know there is in our system no such thing as God, either
personal or impersonal.”
Amid strife and in the manifestation of truth, upon the chariots
of time ascend the law-givers of human welfare: Moses, the untir-
ing leader; Amos, the austere; Buddha, lion-conqueror; Con-
fucius, justice of life; Zoroaster, flaming poet of the sun; Plato,
transfigured and reflected in his “Shadows”; Blessed Issa, great
in the immortal sacrifice; solitary Origen, the wise commentator;
Sergius, great teacher and ascetic. All walked untiringly; all
fell victim to the persecution of their day; all knew that the
teachings of general well-being would inevitably come to pass;
all knew that each sacrifice for the sake of the general well-being
was but the approach of the way.
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ALTAI-HI MALAYA
On the mountain they tell of these teachings and listen to them
simply. And in the deserts and upon the steppes people sing in
their daily life about eternity and about the same general well-
being. The Tibetans, the Mongols, the Buriats, all remember
about this happiness.
• • • * •
And upon what do the peoples of Asia ponder ? The Altaians
remember the White Burkhan — they even suffered in their expec-
tation of Him twenty years ago. Upon the summit of Herem they
are turning to the White Burkhan:
Thou who dwellest behind white clouds
Behind the blue skies —
Three Kurbustans!
Thou wearing four tresses —
White Burkhan!
Thou Spirit of Altai —
White Burkhan!
Thou peopling within thyself, in gold and silver,
A nation, White Altai!
Thou who illuminest the day —
Sun — Burkhan!
Thou who illuminest the night —
Moon — Burkhan !
Let my call be inscribed
Within the book Sudur!
The White Burkhan commands that the idols be burnt and
promises great yield to the people’s lands and pastures. And so
the general well-being will also reach to the encampments of
Altai. Thus is being transfigured the ancient legend about the
coming of Buddha to Altai.
How ponder the people of Asia? The Buriats are singing:
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LADAK
You will say: Sun stand still!
What means its setting?
You will say: Century await!
What means its aging?
You will say: Moon be still!
What means its wane?
You will say: Century await!
What means its aging?
You will say: Snow remain!
What means its melting?
You will say: Elders remain!
What means their passing?
You will say: Cloud be still!
What means its hiding?
You will say: Elders remain!
What means their passing?
Mongols are singing: “He who has no possessions which he
would gather with thoughts of gain; who has naught with which
he would not have strength enough to part; who thinks firmly —
he possesses the lasting and beautiful delight.”
The ancient Chinese have preserved the beautiful hymn of
the Mother of the Sun, calling her Ruler of the East!
[99]
Part V
LAMAYURU-HEMIS
(1925)
Among the manuscripts in the ancient Chinese watch-towers
were found dictionaries and the biographies of famous women.
Such was the modernity of ancient peoples.
When you already know the beauties of Asia, and are accus-
tomed to all the richness of its colors, nevertheless they again
astonish you, and again elate your feelings, so that you feel able
to accomplish the impossible.
Flies, mosquitoes, fleas, earwigs! All possible gifts has Kashmir.
Our departure was not without bloodshed. In Tangmarg a band
of ruffians attacked our caravan and began to beat our men with
iron rods; seven of our men were hurt. It was necessary to
preserve order with revolvers and rifles. In Ghund, our hostlers
fed the horses with poisonous grass; the horses began to shiver
and finally lay down. The entire night they had to be walked
up and down. My horse, Mastan, suffered especially, and also
Sabsa, that of George. The drivers made fires around the ammu-
nition box. A wildcat crept into the tent under George’s bed.
Sattar Khan (our caravan leader) brought five ragamuffins:
“This is a special guard from the village. For in the neighbor-
hood are wandering many Afridi (from Afghan). They may
rob.” The ragamuffins slept near the tents. Nobody came to rob.
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LAMAYURU-HEMIS
Wet, rainy Baltal. We had not yet succeeded in spreading
the wet tents when there arose a new provocation. A police-
man came with a report that our people had at that moment
just destroyed a sanitary post and had seriously insulted the
doctor. Fortunately, the guard at the railway station did not
confirm this evil invention. We again bid our men not to
answer any insults. The caravaneers insisted upon our spending
an extra day in Baltal because of their fear of avalanches on
Zoji. We discussed, walked, reconnoitered on the mountain and
with hesitation decided to move on. There were no avalanches,
although as always on the edges of the mountain, there may have
been separate falling stones. Upon the pass, as usual, was an
icy wind. The fur coats became lighter than gauze!
The Balti had a stomach ache. Thoughtlessly, we gave him
cognac. At once, three more “became sick”; and when we gave
them laxatives they began to demand the same medicine as we
gave to the first one.
• • • • •
In the field near Dras remarkably beautiful women were
working. They were of an Arabian type, dressed in black shirts
with black bands on their heads. We thought these were Dards
but were told they were Afridi, who came to the summer pas-
tures from Afghan; these are the ones of whom the people are
afraid.
There are stories of how caravans were looted: one Tibetan
caravan was captured by the Amban of Sining. The other was
destroyed completely by a Mongolian Ja-lama, who, beginning
his career as a statesman, finished as a feudal bandit. His
\hoshuns, up to now, are marauding in Tsaidam.
• • • • •
[ ioi ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
There are stories about the high interest which is extorted
by the Sinkiang officials and army officers. All loan money on
interest, exacting up to twenty per cent per month. It is terrible.
We encounter the passing caravans: All sorts of people —
Dards, Baltis, Ladakis, Astoris and Yarkandis. The tongues are
completely different. It is like an exodus of nations.
Did the ancient Goths not compare Kashmir with the Tyrol?
Or with the Rhine ? Transparent, ephemeral, flitting is the beauty
of Kashmir. It is difficult to imagine oneself in mighty Asia.
Further, further — beyond, to the rocks and amber sands.
After Zoji all changed. Kashmir remained behind with all
its poisonous herbs, cholera and insects. Crossing the icy bridges
over a thundering river, we seemed to cross into another country.
People seem more honest; the streams seem more health-giving;
the herbs are more curative and the stones are multi-colored.
And the air itself seems exhilarating. Mornings are brisk — as
of the first autumn frosts. In the afternoon there is a clear dry
heat. The rocks are purple and green of hue. Grasses are golden
like rich carpets. And the recesses of the mountains as well as
the slime of the river-bed and the healing aromatic herbs — all
are prepared to contribute their gifts. Here verily great decisions
are possible.
Beyond Dras we encounter the first Buddhist message. Near
the road are two stone stelae representing Maitreya. Nearby,
a stone with the image of a rider. Is this rider not upon a white
horse ? Is this not a messenger of the new world ? It is remark-
able that this first Buddhist emblem happens to be just the image
of Maitreya.
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LAMA YURU-HEMIS
In Maulbeck, we visited a typical Tibetan home of the old
order. We climbed up on a slanting ladder as on a raised bridge.
Within was the house chapel, and an odor of incense. We found
a portly hostess — a widow. From the balconies is a wondrous
view, encompassing all the mountains and a fantasy of sand
formations. The rooms are peaceful. Upon the floor near the
door, a girl squeezes out vegetable oil for lamps. Behind her is
the skin of a yak, and her head is crowned by a weighty head-
dress of turquoise.
In Dras is the first sign of Maitreya. But in ancient Maulbeck,
a gigantic image of the Coming One powerfully stands beside
the road. Every traveler must pass by this rock. Two hands
reach toward the sky, like the summons of far-off worlds. Two
hands reach downward like the benediction of earth. They
know that Maitreya is coming. Is it not about this gigantic
image that Fa-hsien wrote in his diaries? So it would seem.
The Monastery, Maulbeck, with two temples and endless
ruins, crowns the rocks with an unusually heroic chord. As a
precious bronze wedge! And the country of forgotten heroism
is asleep. Forgotten is the legend of Herodotus about ants
bringing gold from the shore of the Indus. But some remember
about this gold. And Gessar-Khan promises to open the gold
fields upon a certain date to the people who will be worthily able
to meet the coming tide of Maitreya — the age of universal unity
ordained by Buddha himself.
Ladaki drivers, who are Buddhists, wash their hands and
heads, and rinse their mouths before each meal. And they sing
resoundingly and joyously. And my black hostler begins a dance
on the road. We go merrily. We observe the colors and sil-
houettes of the rocks.
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Whoever built Lamayuru and Maulbeck knew what was true
beauty and fearlessness. Before such expanse, before such decora-
tions, Italian cities pale. And these solemn rows of stupas are
like joyous torches upon tourmaline sands. Where will one find
such decoration as the castle of “Tiger’s Peak,” or the endless
ruins of the castles crowning all the slopes near the Tibetan
Kharbu? Where lies a country equal to these forsaken spots?
Let us be just and bow before such true beauty.
• • • • •
It is amazing. Here in Lamayuru, in this very stronghold not
only of the Red sects but even Bon-po, among the row of
images stands a great image of Maitreya. It was placed here
about 200 years ago. Even here did this knowledge penetrate.
Maitreya alone binds firmly the Mahayana and Hinayana in-
cluding Ceylon. In this reverence are united Yellow and Red
sects. There is magnificence in this reverence of the future.
The caravans, meeting, greet each other. They always inquire,
“Whence do you come?” They never inquire, “Who are you?”
Movement has already effaced personality. Above the caravans
sound the calls, “Shabash” (good way ahead) or “Kabarda”
(danger, attention). And truly, on the steep banks of the yellow,
thunderous Indus, there is always danger of a cruel, swift tide,
a sweep of sharp stones which can brush the horse into the whirl-
pool of the torrent.
Saspul is an open, merry place. Around it are many monas-
teries. At the very road is a small monastery, and within it a
gigantic image of the seated Maitreya. On the side also stand
giants, Manjushri and Avalokiteshvara. In the front temple is
an ancient stone stela with the same images, which dates from
the tenth century or earlier. The lama of the temple talks with
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LAMAYURU MONASTERY (LADAK)
( Maitreya Series)
LAMA YURU-HEMIS
knowledge about Maitreya. This temple has been little noticed
in descriptions.
• • • • ■
Maitreya stands as the symbol of the future. But we also
perceived the signs of the past. Upon the rocks are images of
deer, of mountain goats with twisted horns, of horses. Where
did we recall similar images? Why, on the stones of North
America; upon Siberian rocks: The same technique, the same
stylization, and the same reverence for animals. Few are the
human images. We saw only one — an archer and several rows
of people, perhaps representing a ritual. Through these images,
America and Asia stretch hands to each other. On the wall of
a semi-grotto where we paused for rest, the hands of some
unknown travelers had also left the figures of animals.
Basgo is an ancient monastery upon the sharp cliffs. Such
a whimsical and variegated line, without any minuteness, is sel-
dom seen.
The Ladaki villages are not ill-smelling. On the contrary, one
often smells incense, wild mint, sage, apples and apricots.
We passed Kalatse. There upon the bridge was nailed the
hand of the “robber,” Sukamir, who attempted to conquer Ladak
for Kashmir. A cat had devoured this venal hand — and in its
place it was found necessary to borrow the hand of a dead lama,
lest the svmbol suffer. Already missionaries are in Kalatse.
Encampments from Srinagar to Leh: Ganderbal, Kangan,
Ghund, Sonamarg, Baltal (Zoji), Matayan, Dras, Kharbu, Kargil,
Maulbeck, Tibetan Kharbu, Lamayuru, Nuria, Saspul (Basgo),
Nyimu. The last may be omitted if the night-lodging is pre-
pared in Leh.
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Wheat does not fear an altitude of 12,000 feet, and barley
is adaptable as high as 15,000 feet. Horses are fed with barley
instead of oats. A certain veterinarian attempted to prove that
barley was very harmful for horses but all Tibet in practice has
proved the opposite.
• • • • •
In the time of war and revolution the trade of Turkestan and
India was increased. In Leh the former political inspector of
Gilgit is stationed as special trade agent.
• • • • •
Bearded vultures, white-tailed eagles and European falcons of
brownish-gold are perching upon the sapphires and tourmalines
of the mountains.
* • • • •
On New Year the Tibetans bring to Buddha freshly blossom-
ing greens, because the Tibetan New Year is at the beginning
of February. And in Lhasa at that time they prepare for work
in the fields. What then is there better and fresher and more
symbolic of striving to offer to Buddha than the fresh seedlings,
this first message of the awakened life?
Either one must accept what exists in its full reality or find
recourse in personal superstitions. Of course, reality is precious.
But then, one must take the actual living facts. These facts will
bring their offering of tender verdure to Buddha; they also will
evoke dreams of the unity of the peoples. They will give rise to
the structure of the new unions. But these facts one can verify
only in the desert beyond the accessible boundaries, outside of
the sphere of influence; where there are no slanderers, no liars;
where one thinks all afresh ; where decisions do not depend upon
any outlined regulations.
[ 106]
LAMAYURU-HEMIS
We are looking upon the inexhaustibly rich rock formations.
We note where and how were conceived the examples of sym-
bolic images. Nature, having no outlet, inscribed epics with their
wealth of ornamentation, on the rocks. One perceives how the
forms of imagery blend with the mountain atmosphere. Just
those forms, thought out in the West, here begin to live and
become convincing: One may expect the appearance of Kuan
Yin; or Lhamo prepares the element of destruction; or the
image of Mahakala may issue from the mass of the cliff. And
how many enchanted stone knights await their liberation! How
many enchanted helmets and swords are hidden in the chasms!
This is not the unlifelike Durandale from Rockamadura. This is
the real tragedy and achievement of life. And Bruguma of
Gessar Khan is kin to Brunhilde of Siegfried. Crafty Locke runs
along the fiery rocks. And under a tremendous banyan tree, in
an orange mantle, sits a Sanyasin, in all ways and manners the
same as in the times of Gautama Buddha.
Over the mountains rings out the “Forging of the Sword” and
the “Call of Valkyrie” and the “Magic Fire Music” and the
“Roar of Fafner .” I remember Stravinsky once was ready to
annihilate Wagner. No, Igor, this heroic realism, these har-
monies of achievement are not to be destroyed. And the music
of Wagner is also true, and rings remarkably in the mountains.
Ragtime and fox-trots will not supplant Wagner. Upon the
Tyrolian rocks and in the Villa at Pisa, Wagner became filled
with a true enthusiasm and his sweep is fit for the heights of
Asia. Humanity still lives by beauty.
An unusual fire in the village Nyimu! I was awakened by
the exclamation of E. I.: “Fire! Fire!” I awoke and saw the sil-
houette of E. I. against a background of undulating bluish flame;
gradually the fire died out. It appears that E. I. approached
[107]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
the bed and touched the blanket. The bluish flame, warm, odor-
less, flashed up. E. I. tried to extinguish it with her hands but
the flame spread more and more strongly. Then she called me.
The fire ceased as it began, without leaving the slightest trace
on anything. Unforgettable was this leaping flame, unconsuming
and vivid. The tent was entirely illumined. As always during
phenomena, only afterwards we could talk over all the unusual
details of this fire.
Dr. Francke relates the words of his Tibetan fellow traveler at
the source of the Indus, in view of certain heights: “Behind
them lies Ba-yul, the country of tall beings. Only highly de-
veloped people can find out something about the life in this
Ba-yul. But if a simple man approaches the snowy boundaries
he sometimes hears only voices incomprehensible to him.”
A Ladaki song:
Through the gates of the east entered the Hindu Faith.
Say, did you pass by way of the sacred word?
The Persian kingdom erects the gates of the south.
Did you pass through them?
The celestial message of China opens to us the western gates.
How did you pass the way of the Chinese sign ?
And the gates of the north belong to Gessar Khan.
How did you pass the way of the sword stroke?
Did you pass the gates leading to Lhasa, where lies the
way of the seekers of truth?
The east — the gates of India. There, hallowing the sacred
word and custom, we rested.
The Persian kingdom possesses the gates of the south.
There we revered the border of the noble ones.
The celestial message of China opened to us the western
gates.
[ 108]
LAMA YURU-HEMIS
Affirming the dates it gave us happiness.
The gates to the warrior, Gessar, are on the north.
By the clash of swords we passed these nations.
And through the gates of Lhasa, seeking for truth,
We passed, testing in silence our spirit.
The geographical oddities of the song evidently result from the
accumulations of different races.
Another beautiful Ladaki song:
One is visited by wisdom and one is only an onlooker.
Some can achieve wholly naught, therefore one must test
himself here.
But to him who already comes with wisdom, there is spe-
cial bliss.
Does the High One need the wisdom of nine signs ?
And does the mediocre one need the same?
Are you coming as friend of high estate or do you only
desire a purse?
Did you come without threats ?
Do you wish the covenant of friendship?
There are three kinds of enemies.
There are three kinds of friends.
Would you enumerate them?
There are three enemies:
An enemy who induces sickness,
An enemy who hates the spirit,
An enemy who avenges in bloodshed.
We did not come as enemies,
We are friend to you.
We name three friends:
Our Liberator Buddha,
[109]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
The union of a harmonious family,
The union of love and blood.
Here are the three friends.
Verily, it is so.
• • • • •
We recall the beautiful little book of Claude Bragdon, “Epi-
sodes of an Unwritten History.” We could furnish him with
several more episodes. It is always pleasant to meet Bragdon.
All that he does is so sincere and fine.
Pay attention to the blending of Kuan Yin, Aryabalo — Avalo-
kiteshvara. Gessar insists upon the structure of the temple,
Aryabalo.
The name of Gessar has reached as far as the Volga
(Astrakhan).
• • • • •
Gessar is being identified with Assur.
The temple of Gessar Khan was built upon the site of the
manifestation of Avalokiteshvara.
The people of Ordoss place before the house five colored ban-
ners, the colors of the rainbow, awaiting the coming of the
great being — “Tengiras Ochirta'i.”
The abbot of the monastery Wu-t’a'i shan in the book, “The
Red Path to Shambhala,” describes many details of the way into
this forbidden place. At the end of it there is a characteristic
detail, to the effect that the traveler saw on the very edge of the
safeguarded place, a caravan of Mongols with salt, although they
did not suspect the nearness of the dwelling.
A Buriat lama gives the information that when he went to
Shambhala he was led by an underground passage. The passage
sometimes became so narrow that one could hardly push through
[no]
LAMA YURU-HEMIS
the thoroughbred ram, which was being led into the forbidden
place.
Mongolian lamas indicate several “safeguarded” places in the
boundaries of Khangai and Gobi. There came several hurried
messengers from the Himalayas.
Near Kalatse are pointed out many places which are dedicated
to the name of Gessar Khan: i. Garuda — of Gessar Khan.
2. Saddle of Gessar. 3. Tambourine of Bruguma, wife of Gessar.
4. Spinning wheel of Bruguma. 5. Castle of Gessar Khan — a
high rock — a white spot indicates the sign of a door.
On Sumur upon the rock is an image of a crowned lion.
This lion is upon Tibetan and military banners.
Mongols speak about the coming of “Meru.”
In the spring in Ladak is a festival of Gessar, celebrated with
singing and archery. From the names of the songs one may
weave a complete garland about Gessar.
Let us remember the names: Gessar the Conqueror; Gessar
and the Treasury of the Giants; The Wisdom of Bruguma; Father
and Mother, the All-powerful; The Return of Gessar and Bru-
guma; The Voices of Heaven; The Conjuration of the Arrow;
The Four Victories of Gessar; The Prayer of Gessar; Upon the
Peak Shrar; Gessar the Ruler of Lightning; The Victory Song of
Gessar; Praise to Gessar.
These titles alone proclaim the path of folk-consciousness, of
the national dignity and the dream about the hero of freedom.
Both Ladakis and Mongols await fighters and builders of life.
They endow them not only with a leonine courage but with
serpentine cunning and the tirelessness of a stag. How wondrous
it is to observe the growth of the consciousness and its forging
of heroic symbols!
[in]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
The images upon the rocks can be ascribed to three periods:
the Neolith, the ancient faith of Bon-po and the superstition of
a later period. In the technique of the images themselves one
can distinguish the firm, succulent stylization of antiquity and
the restrained, sharp line of later drawings.
The name of Orion is often connected with the narrative
about Gessar Khan: On Altai, the mountain Beluha is called
Outch-Sure. Outch means Orion; Sure, the dwelling of Gods;
thus correlating to the Mongolian Sumer and Hindu Sumeru.
Upon the mountain Outch-Sure one ascends by a White Khatik.
The heavenly bird upon the mountain Outch-Sure has conquered
the dragon. Tsagan Ubugun, white old man, is always near to
the Great Bear.
• • • • •
They say in the caravan that the Mongolian soldiers — tseriks —
carry special banners and sing a hymn composed by them about
the approach of the time of Shambhala.
From border to border, from mouth to mouth.
One does not care to give to the local images any ethnographical
or geographical character. Let them go as banners: “Sanctuaries
and Citadels.” Let them, by their general tone of heroism and
attainment, themselves speak for this country.
Spitug is a powerful monastery, the first, according to the
teachings of Tsong-kha-pa. Here are not ruins, but a living and
working community. The abbot of the monastery and his co-
workers are learned and strikingly keen men. Before one has
yet completely spoken, they are ready to continue your finished
thought correctly. In Spitug lies the image of Maitreya and the
knowledge of the prophecies. In one of the divisions of Spitug
in Leh in a special compartment stands a great image of Dukar,
[112]
LAMAYURU-HEMIS
Mother of the World, with numberless eyes of omniscience, and
with the arrow of justice. At her right, stands Maitreya — the
Coming One. At her left, the many-armed image of the Ava-
lokiteshvara, this conclave of the Brotherhood of the Great Unity.
One should remember the correlation of these three symbols.
This correlation has never been remarked upon or explained.
In both branches of Spitug, the murals are excellent, with
strong tones and feeling of balance. They have promised to pro-
cure for us the same artist who painted these stirring walls.
To our camp came riding a missionary from Yarkand. On
yaks, he had just crossed Khardong Pass, losing all sense of
days and dates. His watch had stopped. He repeated constantly:
“It is a staggeringly hard journey.” He told us that the worst
spots were Khardong and Sasser Pass, while Karakorum, though
higher was easier. He praised highly the people of Turkestan.
He informed us that the Amban is already awaiting us and con-
siders us his guests.
The monastery Sheh, seven miles from Leh, is wonderfully
laid out. In it is a tremendous, two-storied image of Buddha, the
finest mural of any seen by us thus far.
In Trikshe also are the great images of Buddha, Maitreya and
Manjushri. The paintings are somewhat simpler. We did not
see friendly lamas there. There was only an old Mongolian lama
who, judging by his erratic laughter, was not quite normal.
One must also see the reverse side of Buddhism — let us go to
Hemis. On approaching one already feels the strange atmosphere
of darkness and dejection. The stupas have strange fearful
images — ugly faces. Dark banners. Black ravens fly above and
black dogs are gnawing at bones. And the canyon tightly in-
closes itself. Of course, the temple and the houses are all huddled
together. And the objects of service are heaped together in dark
[ 113]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
\
corners like pillaged loot. The lamas are half-literate. Our guide
laughs. “Hemis, a big name, but a little monastery.” Of course,
small, not according to size, but to inner meaning. Here is
apparent prejudice and greed. The only fine thing about it
was that upon the neighboring sharp rocks, at morning, the stags
appeared and, standing long upon the cliffs, turned their heads
to greet the sun.
It is an old monastery founded by a great lama who left a book
about Shambhala and these manuscripts are lying down below,
out of sight, probably feeding the mice.
Regarding the legends of Jesus — first there was a complete
denial. To our amazement denial first comes from the circle
of missionaries. Then slowly, little by little, creep in frag-
mentary, reticent details, difficult to obtain. Finally it appears
that the old people in Ladak have heard and know about the
legends.
• • • • •
Such legends about Jesus and the Book of Shambhala lie in
the “darkest” place. And the figure of the lama — the compiler
of the book of Shambhala — stands like an idol in some sort of
fantastic headgear. And how many other relics have perished
in dusty corners? For the Tantrik-lamas have no interest in
them. It was necessary to see this other side of Buddhism.
And how simple it is to brush aside this grime and dust of
fanaticism! How simple to restore the stirring mural paintings!
How easy to purify and to cleanse the finely wrought statues! Nor
is it difficult to bring the monastic organizations back to the full
meaning of the working order, according to the teachings of the
greatest Lion (Sinha) — Buddha.
• • • • •
[H4]
LAMAYURU-HEMIS
“I am the King of Ladak” — thus the slender, slight man in
Tibetan garb, approached us. He is the former King of Ladak,
who was conquered by Kashmiris. His is a fine, intellectual face.
Now his means are very limited. And so we speak at tea, and
we tell him we love his country and his people who are remark-
able for their calmness and honesty. We speak of the teaching
and the guest in a fine, subtle way, remarks that the Yellow and
Red Sects are now almost alike in many observances. We speak
of ancient things, of the finesse of the work. The king invites
us to see his palace, which rises high upon the rocks overlooking
Leh.
We climb the steep, uncertain staircases. We pass along the
dark crossings. We pause, rapt in joy, upon the terraces and
balconies, from which before us spreads the vista of all moun-
tains and sand-mounds. We must bow in order to enter the low,
tiny doors which lead into the house temple. The temple is
dedicated to Dukar, the resplendent Mother of the World. In
the center again stands her image. On her right hand — Buddha.
Although the king now lives in Stog, the summer palace,
nevertheless, before these images are fresh flowers. On the
walls hang many finely colored banners. The general feeling
of the paintings here is finer than in Sikhim, and one feels the
great influence of Tashi-lhunpo.
Near the palace, in a separate temple, is placed the gigantic
image of Maitreya. The wall painting there is very majestic.
Often, the murals of Italy or of Russian churches, were either
too detailed or too general in parts. But here one is startled by
the unusual combination of breadth of understanding of the gen-
eral parts, with their richness of detail. The figure of Maitreya
is two stories high — up to the waist in the lower floor, and on
the higher floor, the Image itself. Perhaps this division of the
statue was done as an afterthought, but its idea is quite remark-
able. It is as though the common man should not perceive at
[ii5]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
once the entire grandeur of the symbol. One must ascend the
upper way in order to reach the Image — as though of a higher
world. The lower floor is bathed in twilight while above, through
the narrow windows without glass, the rays of the bright, all-
penetrating sun pour in. And near you are great number of
stupas and the glistening sand and fantastic networks of the
gates.
• • • • •
The Mongolian lama has arrived and with him a new wave
of news; they await our arrival in Lhasa. In monasteries, he
says, all are discussing the prophecies. He is an excellent lama
and has already traveled from Urga to Ceylon. How far this
organization of the lamas is penetrating everywhere!
We are talking with the lama about what happened to us
near Darjeeling. It must be recorded: We were going in an
automobile near the monastery Ghum. Approaching us there
appeared a porte-chaise, carried by four servants in white gar-
ments, while the lama himself sat in a remarkably beautiful
garment with a crown upon his head. He had a bright, welcom-
ing face, with a small black beard. The automobile had to slow
down, and the lama smiled and joyously nodded his head. We
thought that this was the important abbot of a large monastery.
But afterwards we discovered that lamas are not carried in porte-
chaises, nor do they wear crowns when traveling. Nor do
lamas in Sikhim appear in such beautiful garments. No one
ever heard of such a lama — and a face like his we found nowhere.
The chauffeur slowed up the automobile while driving before
the lama, which enabled us sharply to observe his face.
The last flight of the Tashi-Lama had a heroic character.
Three hundred armed lamas accompanied the visionary refugee.
Each of them, and the Tashi-Lama himself, led an extra horse
by the bridle, because the flight was hurried — and pursuit threat-
[n6]
LAMA YURU-HEMIS
ened them from all sides. A message was brought to them, just
in time, that 500 Lhasan horsemen were hastening to cut off
escape on the Nagchu Pass. The Tashi-Lama succeeded in turn-
ing to the side and escaping through a gorge. A snowstorm
rose and the pursuit was cut off. So, full-armed, amidst an
incessant galloping, an historic flight occurred — the fulfillment
of the ancient prophecies, so important for the future, took place.
According to an eyewitness, the monk-artist Gelong Champa
Tashi, the Tashi-Lama took with him from Tashi-lhunpo only
the pictures of Shambhala. Out of them, on the way, he gave
two to well-known Khutukhtas; and here in Ladak was Rin-
poche, from the Chumbi, who told us that now the shortest way
is only through Shambhala! In many monasteries the images
of Maitreya are being raised and restored!
From hand to hand among the local inhabitants the prophecies
and new commands are traveling. With excitement they are
comparing the dates which have already been fulfilled. And they
prepare and await, await, await. . . .
Some one comes in the evening and whispers about a new
manuscript of Shambhala. We ask him to bring it.
One must be in these places to understand what occurs! One
must look into the eyes of these coming ones, in order to realize
how vitally important for them is the meaning of Shambhala.
And the dates of events are not a curious oddity for them but
are connected with the structures of the future. Though these
structures are sometimes dust-ridden and perverted, their sub-
stance is vital and stirs the thought. Following the development
of thought you realize the dreams and hopes. And out of these
fragments has been pieced together the real departure of the
Tashi-Lama — an important one. The new web of the world!
Three years before his departure, the Tashi-Lama ordered that
frescoes be painted on the walls of his inner chambers. In these
[ 117]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
frescoes in clear symbols are represented all the wanderings of
the Tashi-Lama through various countries.
Throughout Ladak are scattered stones with images of a cross,
apparently Druid or Nestorian. The most ancient and now for-
gotten country preserves the Druid signs and all possible later
symbols.
Not far from the site of Buddha stand most ancient tombs
called ancient Dard graves. Their age is of course considerably
more than a thousand years.
Three items of information reached us in one day about the
legends of Jesus. A Hindu said to us: “I have heard from
one Ladaki official that according to the words of the former
Abbot of Hemis, there was a tree and a small pool in Leh beside
which Jesus taught.” (This is some new version about a tree
and a pool, unheard before.)
The missionary says: “A nonsensical invention composed by a
Pole who sat in Hemis several months.” (One may ask why
invented, when it coincides with other versions and proofs.)
Another says: “Is it not a Nestorian legend? Among them
were many legends and true ones. But missionaries know noth-
ing about it.”
So the subject is being discussed. Thus slowly the news begins
to leak out. The chief thing is the unusual depth of the legend
and the wonderful meaning it has to the lamas throughout the
entire East.
A good and sensitive Hindu spoke meaningly about the manu-
script of the life of Issa. “Why does one always place Issa in
Egypt during the time of his absence from Palestine ? His young
years of course were passed in study. The traces of his learning
have naturally impressed themselves upon his later sermons. To
what sources do these sermons lead ? What is there in them of
[118]
LAMAYURU-HEMIS
Egyptian? And why does one not see traces of Buddhism — of
India? It is difficult to understand why the wandering of Issa
by caravan path into India and into the region now occupied by
Tibet, should be so vehemently denied.”
The teachings of India were famed far and wide; let us even
recall the description of the life of Appolonius of Tyana and his
visits to Hindu sages.
Another speaker reminds us that in Syria there was found
a slab with an inscribed governmental edict about the persecution
of the followers of Jesus as enemies of the government. This
archaeological find must be curious for those who deny the his-
toricity of Jesus the Teacher. And how does one explain the
tiny coins used by the early Christians in the catacombs? And
the first catacombs themselves still exist. There are always
those who love scornfully to deny when something difficult
enters their consciousness; but then, knowledge is transformed
into seminaristic scholasticism and slander is cultivated as a fine
art. In what possible way could a recent forgery penetrate into
the consciousness of the whole East? And where is the scientist
who could write a long treatise in Pali and Tibetan? We do not
know such an one.
Each day the lama rejoices and astonishes us. He has seen
so much and knows so much and is able so keenly to discriminate
among the people. Just now he has brought us the information
that a name very close to us is mentioned in the most ancient
prophecies. There is not the slightest bigotry in the lama and
for the defense of the foundations he is even ready to take arms.
He will whisper: “Do not speak to this man — he will babble
everything.” . . . “And now I had better leave you.” And there
is nothing personal felt behind his motives. And how ready he
is to move farther!
[U9]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Leh is a remarkable site. Here the legends connected the paths
of Buddha and Christ. Buddha went through Leh northwards.
Issa communed here with the people on his way from Tibet.
Secretly and cautiously the legends are guarded. It is difficult to
sound them because lamas, above all people, know how to keep
silent. Only by means of a common language — and not merely
that of tongue but also of inner understanding — can one approach
their significant mysteries. One becomes convinced that every
educated Gelong knows much. Even by his eyes one cannot
guess when he agrees or inwardly laughs at you, knowing more
than yourself. How many stories these silent ones can tell of the
passing “savants” who have found themselves in the most ridicu-
lous positions! But now has come the time of the illumination
of Asia.
Wonderful voices have the Ladakis. Their robes strangely
recall the Russian Byzantine ornaments. Often instead of the
fur slung behind the shoulders, there is a short mantle of
cloth with embroidered designs, which gives the impression of
the ancient corsno (Byzantine mantle-cloak). Their high em-
broidered hats are like those of Boyars. In their girdles are
metal depositories for a pen and a pair of reed pipes, and with
these latter they fill the evening with ringing melodies. During
the hours of their work in the fields the Ladakis wear on their
heads wreaths of barley and flowers. And the songs — such ring-
ing joyous sound — are like the nature of Ladak itself!
• • • • •
Once again came the King of Ladak. As a result we are to
live in his palace. From this site of the sermons of Issa, from its
high terraces, one must paint a series of all that can be seen
from here. In these high places, purified by winds, occurred
the signs of great communions. Of course the places have
changed. Destructions and constructions succeeded one another.
[ 120 ]
From a painting by Nicholas Roerich Roerich Museum.
LEH, LADAK
(Maitreya Series)
LAM A YURU-HEMIS
The conquerors have brought new accumulations, but the basic
silhouette remains unchanged. The same heavenly frames as
formerly are crowning the earth — the same glowing stars and the
tides of sand like a sea congealed. And the deafening winds,
sweeping up from the earth. . . .
And here is the site of Buddha. It is eroded by time. A legend
speaks of a “great and very ancient structure.” But now the
abutments of cliffs and rugged stones speak only of destruction.
The old hewn stones have gone to the structure of later stupas,
which in their turn have already crumbled. One fact is evident —
you stand upon a place of ancient habitation. Not far off is an
old village and a sharp-peaked heap of ruins — remains of an
ancient fortress merged together like a monolith.
The days are filled with our settling in the Ladaki palace.
Crowds of people are coming: envoys from Lhasa, Tibetan mer-
chants, Ak-sakal the Elder, Tasildar from Kashmir (the district
chief) and, again, the King of Ladak.
The old King Lama came himself. In spite of his poverty
he brought with him about ten accompanying lamas and rela-
tives. From the conversation it became apparent that the family
of the king knows of the manuscripts about Issa. They also in-
formed us that many Mohammedans would like to possess this
document. Then followed conversation about prophecies con-
nected with Shambhala, about the dates and about that which
fills reality with beauty. The old King Lama departs and the
crowd in white kaftans bow before him in reverence, simply
and beautifully.
As simply yesterday in the street did a woman, walking out of
the field of stubble, approach and stretch out a hand of greeting.
They are now harvesting the golden barley. Rows of people
[m]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
with flower wreaths on their heads, carry on their backs sheaves
of golden wheat and sing stirringly and joyously, in golden full-
voiced garlands of song.
And so we live in a Ladaki palace. The ruins of Italian
castles pale in comparison with this picturesque pile, this mass
which rises in the chalice of the many-colored mountains.
Where have we seen such lofty roof-terraces? Where have we
previously walked upon such ruined alleys? Of course in the
painting of Mehesky — the Moon people.* Of course, these are the
very same towers. Only here are dwelling not the Mehesky, but
descendants of Gessar Khan. All Kings of Ladak trace their
descent from the heroic Gessar Khan.
How wonderful that George knows all necessary Tibetan dia-
lects. Only without a translator will people here speak about
spiritual things. Now one must absorb, with full knowledge,
with clear, true approach. Curiosity is not fitting. Only insistent
love of knowledge!
• • • • e
The eighth of September. Letters from America. Many mes-
sages will miss us here. The letters traveled for six weeks — but
successfully reached the steamer.
Upon the walls of the room chosen as the dining-room are
painted vases with many-colored plants. On the bedroom walls
are all the symbols of Chintamani — the stone of the treasure of
the world. And the carved pillars, black from age, support the
dusky ceiling with its big Berendey-like balusters. Little doors
are above a high threshold and the narrow windows are without
glass. And before nightfall the wind blows freely through the
* Painting of Roerich, 1915.
[122]
LAMA YURU-HEMIS
passageways. The floor is covered with bright felting from
Yarkand. And upon the lower terrace a black dog barks — Tum-
bal, and the white dog, Amdong, are our new fellow travelers.
During the night the wind whistles and the old walls shake.
I am painting in the upper chamber which has its exit upon
all the roofs. Its doors have broad carved casements and the
pillars have intricately frescoed capitals. Stairs, steps and dark
ceilings are patterned by age. Where have I seen this chamber
before? Where have these bright colors sparkled? Of course
in the “Snowmaiden” * in the Chicago setting. My dear ones
enter and say: “Well, here is verily the true Berendey in his own
chamber.”
Berendeyev\a ended sooner than we thought — the fall does not
tarry. One must pass Karakorum before the autumn northeast
wind approaches. The way to Shayok is passable only a week
longer. Moreover, the people already have taken the bridges
apart for fuel, and the water has risen to the height of a man.
There remains the path through the Khardong and Sasser passes.
Many varied imperative considerations cause us to hasten the date
of departure. With a large caravan one becomes a subject.
Hence with horses, with mules and yaks, with rams and with
dogs, we go on the old trail — but with the signs of new possibili-
ties, we will walk upon the mountains. And then down to the
deserts. Is it possible to descend from the mountains? But the
element of the sand is also beckoning and the desert nights and
sunrises are also glowing. And in this glimmer of beauty lies the
whole conception and hope.
Karakorum — the black throne. Beyond lies China — again the
old patrimony of Buddha.
* Snowmaiden in Roerich’s setting for the Chicago Opera Co., 1921.
[ 123]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
On a red steed, unbridled, with flaming banner, rushes the
Great Rider, in armor and blowing upon the sacred conch-shell.
From him are darting tongues of flame and before him fly mes-
sengers— birds. Behind him lie the mountains — Beluha. Snows
and the White Tara send blessings. Above him exultingly is held
the gathering of the Great Lamas. Beneath him are the guardians
and herds of domestic animals as the symbols of the site. This
ancient Tibetan picture was brought to us on the last day of our
life in Ladak.
In the courtyard they complete the loading of the yaks. We
are now setting out! And the day is sparkling.
September 18th.
Part VI
LEH— KARAKORUM— KHOTAN
(1925)
September 18th
At last one can finally leave all of Kashmir’s falseness and dirt.
One can forget half-ruined Srinagar. One can forget the attack
made on our caravan by armed bandits. The Moravian mission
in Leh has some strange restrictions and informs us of its con-
sent to rent us one of its houses on condition that I sign an agree-
ment to do no “Religious, semi-religious, etc., propaganda.” No
one could explain just what meaning the mysterious semi and
etc. had. And who could pledge himself not to exceed the in-
comprehensible limit of semi and etc.? We were able to get
along without the headquarters of the mission — in the Palace of
the Ladaki King. Only in the mountains does one feel safe.
Only in the desert passes ignorance does not reach one.
September igth
We learned how widespread are the legends about Issa. It is
important only to know the substance of these legends. The
sermons related in them, of unity, of the significance of woman
and all the indications about Buddhism, are so remarkably timely
for us. Lamas know the significance of these legends. And
why do people resent and slander these legends? Every one
knows how to slander the so-called “Apocrypha.” For slander
does not need a high intelligence. But who can fail to recog-
nize that many of the so-called “Apocrypha” are far more
basically true than many official documents? The Kraledvorsky
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manuscript which was accepted by every one happened to be a
forgery — while many genuine documents do not enter into any
one’s consciousness. It is enough to remember the so-called
Evangel of the Ebionites. Such authorities as Origen, Jerome
and Epiphany speak about the existence of this biography.
Irenaeus, in the second century, knows of it — and where is it
now? It is better, instead of useless discussions, humanly to re-
flect on the facts and thoughts which are communicated in the
legends of Issa, “the best of human sons.” Appreciate how close
to contemporary consciousness is the substance of these legends
and be astonished how widely all the East knows of them and
how persistent is the repetition of them.
For a long time we loaded the yaks, horses, mules, donkeys,
sheep, dogs — a complete biblical procession. The caravaneers are
like a case of an ethnographical museum. We passed the pool
where, according to tradition, Issa first taught. To the left remain
the prehistoric tombs. Behind them, the place where Buddha,
the ancient founder of the Order, went northward through
Khotan. Farther on, ruins of structures and the garden which
speaks so much to us. We passed by stony reliefs of Maitreya,
which on the way, convey to distant travelers their parting word
of hope for the future. The palace remained behind the rock,
with the temple Dukar — the illumined, many-armed Mother of
the World. The last sign from Leh was the farewell of the
women of Ladak. They went out upon the road carrying the
blessed milk of yaks. They sprinkled the milk on the fore-
heads of the horses and travelers in order to give them the
power of yaks, so needed on the steep inclines and upon the slip-
pery ribs of the glaciers. The women bade us farewell.
Up to Khardong, the ascent is easy. The hot sun set, and
toward evening there sprang up a sharp, cold wind. We had
to spread our camp on a naked Arctic plain, under the cutting
wind. The Kashmiris very slyly would not show the Ladakis
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many of the things. And at twilight, by reason of the gale,
there was an indescribable confusion.
And above us stood snow-covered Khardong! It rose unap-
proachably.
September 20th
We ascended the pass on yaks at three o’clock in the morning.
These heavy, woolly animals are truly irreplaceable because of
their soft step and steadiness; but, of course, only when they are
broken in. For a wild yak is entirely untamable. Once, the
Tibetans provided unbroken yaks for a Chinese regiment and
immediately three-quarters of the riders were thrown to the
earth. Our ascent was not difficult. The view from Khardong
is majestic but the entire northern part of Khardong is one steep,
powerful glacier. The descent was tiresome and dangerous. We
had to walk and creep!
We saw how one loaded yak tripped and was slipping precipi-
tately down the smooth rib of the glacier; but at the very edge
of the precipice, the yak, straining itself, clutched down with
his short strong feet. Many animals and people begin to be
attacked by hemorrhages and headaches along ascents higher than
16,000 feet; on our way even now is seen frozen blood. Already
we pass the skeleton of a horse that had fallen. With us all is
well. After the crossing they tell us of an entire caravan that
was frozen on Khardong, a caravan of Baltis comprising about
one hundred horses was found frozen. Some of the men were
found frozen holding their hands to their mouths as though
screaming. Even now, in the fall, the fingers and toes soon be-
come numb. One has to rub them with snow. It is almost impos-
sible to paint. One can imagine how it is here during the winter.
But beautiful is this threatening glacier! Far below is a turquoise
lake. They say it is very deep. The entire path is strewn with
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gigantic bowlders. Looking back, it seems as though the pass
would be impenetrable.
September 2 1st
After the difficulties of the pass and glacier the road seems
easy. After the piercing cold — heat and a vivid sun. The sands
are hot; the mountains with their snowy rims, recede. Here
are the beds of the streams. Sometimes a stream disappears
into the stony masses and only the rumbling tumult indicates the
flow of the invisible water. Briar roses and tamarisks are every-
where. And the natives in this valley of the Nubra River are
friendly people. The river itself, in flood tide, can become a
ponderous torrent. Now in the fall, its current is divided into
many channels of unusually beautiful and intricate design. We
go beyond the usual encampment.
We slept overnight in Territ, in a real Tibetan house. In
our camp there are three parties: Buddhist, Moslem and
Chinese. They are not without mutual suspicions of one another.
They eat separately. Our old Lun-po happens to be the son
of the Elder in Leh and is a big landowner. He has his estates
and houses everywhere, in Leh, in Hemis and in Territ and in
different places in Changthang. He told us how many monas-
teries were destroyed during the periods of past invasions. In
one of his own houses here are such ruins, full of chips and
statues and the remains of destroyed books. We are sorry that
Lun-po came to us only during the last few days. He came, and
to the question as to who he was, he proudly lifted his eyes and
clearly pronounced “Bhoti,” meaning Buddhist. He also tells
us his brother is the treasurer in Hemis and knows how many
secreted objects there are not shown to visitors. Lun-po wants
to remain with us and to go to different countries. He wants to
learn Russian; he begs only one thing: “Do not cut off my braid!”
And his braid is really a wonderful one — black and down to
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his knees. We calmed him. No one will make any attempts
against this symbol of his national pride. Apparently he already
knows that in China the order has been given to cut the queues
and that in Tibet it is forbidden to show the tongue as a sign
of devotion and gratitude. And Lun-po, in moments of pleasure,
likes to show a broad and healthy tongue. He is a good com-
panion for the heights and glaciers but hardly fits in a house.
We are approaching his property and he begs us not to remain
in the tents but to stay overnight in his house. With pride he
shows us the gates (Chorten) — the walls of which are painted
over with a vivid design. There are many fields and fruit trees.
We sleep in a frescoed Tibetan room. A vivid cornice. There is
a broad window, and a low broad door with a great ring for a
lock. The sandy floor is covered with colored felt. In the
designs of ornaments the swastika is often repeated. In the
middle of the room is a heavy pillar and on a wide pilaster is
an image of Chintamani, the Treasure of the World.
Every Tibetan estate is strangely reminiscent of the plan of
the feudal palaces. The entire building is surrounded by a wall
higher than the height of a man. The entrance is through thick
gates. Behind the wall is a square of outer yard and here
horses are neighing and fires are burning. From the yard you
go as into an armor hall. Beyond it is the inner courtyard with
many doors into the household living quarters. From there
a ladder leads to the second floor, which has also many rooms.
A similar ladder leads to a flat roof from which you have a broad
vista of the far mountains, of rivers and the entire route. The
corner of the roof is occupied by an elaborately designed chamber
like a tower. And to the roof of this chamber leads another
ladder. Ready for the defense, independently, stand the Tibetan
estates.
• • • • •
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September 22nd
It is a clear morning. On the edges of the road are whole
hedges of briar roses. It is an easy journey. Ahead of us are
golden sands and behind them the blue mountains, all shades
with white caps of early snow. It is even hot. A mile from the
road is an old monastery — Sandoling. We decide to enter: Is not
there, perhaps, our lama? Through village dwellings, through
stony streams, through rocky masses, dangerous for the horses’
feet, we ascend. We were not attracted by the lamas in the
monastery; but behind them there is something invisible — some
one who knows much is leading Sandoling on the path of the
future.
At Sandoling is the final outpost of Buddhism before the
desert and therefore we wanted to know: What signs are in
this monastery? There is a new altar of Maitreya with a new
image glowing with strong colors. There is an excellent image
of Dukar. It is pleasant to see the rich collection of banners —
these banners were painted in Ladak. Among them are some
very colorful ones of various fantastic subjects. All are trimmed
with vivid silk. There is a good library. The head lama of the
monastery is absent. Again we do not find our lama. In the
early morning he had left on the road to the frontier. We
shall hasten to find him. It is a long village. Another house
of our Lun-po is here — but we shall go farther. The banks of
the streams and the slopes of the mountain are covered with snow-
white soda. The strata of the mountain slopes are blue, crimson
and brown, indicating the vast abundance of metals. It some-
how seems to us that radium must be here, in these blessed,
unexploited regions.
• • • • •
September 23rd
The frontier site— Panimikh. Of course, on maps, the frontier
is indicated through Karakorum — but upon the heights no one
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has established the frontiers — and human kind ends in Panimikh
Of course, human endeavor often extends further, also. Beyond
Panimikh, as was to be expected for our further passage, the
bridge fell to pieces. This mysterious repairing of the roads was
encountered by us in other localities.
We were told that in the village were stopping two Sahibs
from Yarkand. We had hardly had time to unfold our tents
when they approached us; they were two Swedish missionaries,
one of them the ailing Germanson. They return to Stockholm.
Germanson tells of the difficult places on the road. About
Chinese Turkestan he speaks without special enthusiasm.
Opposite Panimikh, behind the river, on the background of
a red rock, as though glued, is a monastery of the Red Sect.
Against the red background of the mountains, one cannot even
see the approach to the monastery. It is as though, to save itself
from enemies, the monastery had flown up and perched on the
unseen ledge. Far to the left flows the Nubra, and our road
goes to the right almost touching the row of cliffs. So, toward
evening, we are nearing the foot of the pass, Karaul davan.
There is a fantasy of mountain masses. We pause at the very
beginning of the steep ascent.
The evening ends with an unexpected encounter with a Mos-
lem. At the frontier of the desert there proceeds a talk about
Mohammed, about the domestic life of the Prophet and about
his reverence for woman. The talk continues about the move-
ment of the Achmadis, and about legends saying that the tomb
of Jesus is in Srinagar and the tomb of Mary in Kashgar. Again
about the legends of Issa! Moslems are especially interested in
these legends.
The moon rises in conflict with the bonfires. Finally the lama
comes! In order to avoid the bridge he was led somewhere
through a torrent. In the mountains, it is so everywhere. Even
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
being familiar with thirty ways, you may not know the thirty-
first. The lama will go on the pass by night; they prepare a
lantern and an ax for him.
« • • • «
September 24th
Karaul davan, although lower than Khardong, seemed to us
more difficult. Especially severe are the masses of enormous
bowlders along the descent. What gigantic work was entailed
here, to polish and accumulate these heavy bulks! Near Territ
was a path of briars. Here started the trail of skeletons : Horses,
donkeys, yaks, in all positions, and in all stages of decomposition.
It is good that the evil smell is little perceived in this cold air.
Many skeletons are congealed as if in a jumping position. It is
like the last leap of the Valkyries. Among the bowlders, we are
squeezed together between the rocks. Omar-Khan’s horse fell.
At the fording a sheep was drowned. Is it possible that the great
caravan paths of the past eternally came up against these huge
masses ?
From behind a stone rises a strange figure in a woolly Yarkand
cap, a fur kaftan and a lantern. This is the lama dressed as a
Yarkandi. The moon rose early and the lama crossed the comb
of the pass successfully. The same day — an unexpected discovery.
It appears that the lama speaks Russian. He even knows many
of our friends. All the while no one would have suspected such
knowledge. When one spoke Russian in his presence, not a
muscle revealed that he understood. And in his answers he
never once showed his knowledge of what we said in Russian.
Once more it is clear how difficult it is to appraise the measure
of knowledge of the lamas. Toward the evening — snow and
wind; the servants and caravaneers decide to interrupt the march
for four hours, although we could still have proceeded boldly
for two hours. We gave in unnecessarily — and we came right
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into a strip of the first snow. We pass the night near the power-
ful glacier, amidst endless bowlders. Two more horses fell.
September 25th
The approach to Sasser Pass is higher than 17,000 feet. There
is a complete Arctic stillness. Glaciers and snowpeaks — a most
beautiful spot. The billows of the clouds roll by and open up
new, endlessly new, combinations of the cosmic structure. There
are broad lines; all the ornaments and arabesques are discarded.
The people become more concentrated. Everywhere are the
bodies of animals. There are also human tombs, and our people
try to hide it from us. As if this could have any effect on us!
Omar-Khan lost two more horses. The purga (blizzard) is com-
mencing. Overnight we are thickly covered with snow. The
water in the pitchers freezes. It is impossible to paint because the
hands become numb so quickly. It is good that in Kashmir we
lined our tents with heavy material. Our fur shoes come in
handy.
You, my young friends, I remind you to provide yourselves
with clothes for heat and especially for cold. The cold approaches
quickly and sharply. Suddenly you cease to feel your extremi-
ties. Have always at hand a little medicine chest. The chief consid-
erations are the teeth and the stomach; also prevention against
colds. Have bandages for cuts and bruises. All this has already
been of use in our caravan. Any kind of wine on the heights is
very harmful. Against headaches — pyramidon. One should not
eat much. Very useful is Tibetan tea; it is really a hot soup
and warms one very well. It is light and nourishing. The soda
which is used in the tea keeps the lips from painful chapping.
Do not overfeed the dogs and horses, otherwise bleeding will
begin and you will have to do away with the animal. The whole
path is covered with the traces of blood. One must make sure,
in advance, that the horses have already been on the heights.
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Many untried horses perish at once. On such difficult passes all
social differences are erased; all remain just people, equally work-
ing, equally near to danger. Young friends, you must know all
conditions of the caravan life in the desert. Only upon such
ways will you learn to fight with the elements, where each un-
certain step is already an actual death. There you will forget
the number of days and hours. There the stars will shine for
you as heavenly runes. The foundation of all teachings is
fearlessness. Not in bitter-sweet, summer suburban camps, but
on the severe heights, learn keenness of thought and resource-
fulness of action. Not only during lectures, in well-heated audi-
toriums, but upon the cold glaciers, realize the power of the
work of matter and you will understand that each end is but the
beginning of something still more significant and beautiful.
Again the piercing gale. The fire becomes dim. The wings of
the tent are flapping noisily — they want to fly.
September 2 6th
Sasser davan met us in every way most severely. Before dawn
a pricking purga had commenced. We ascend to Sasser — this
gigantic moraine is completely covered with frozen snow. We
hurry to go farther because it will be still worse. Our entire
path is marked with many bodies of animals. The icy trail along
the edge sometimes narrows completely, only allowing of a horse-
hoof. The horses proceed by themselves. We walked six hours
through the glaciers. Gegen had an attack of bleeding; he fell
from his horse. Especially dangerous is the ascent on the arched
surface of the cap of the glacier. Sabsa, George’s horse, is slipping
terribly on the greenish ice. Amidst the glaciers, for a moment,
the sun flashes — all the white kingdom dazzles with an un-
endurable glow. Straight before us appears a wondrous little
black lake between white shores; and again everything is cov-
ered by the opaque purga. Beyond the glaciers we proceed
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along an Arctic ridge. Finally, to our astonishment, we see
grazing camels. They travel as far as the northern foot of Sasser,
and there take over the loads which were transported by horses
and yaks through the Sasser. Some of our Ladakis going
through the passes for the first time, never have seen camels
and timidly they go around these long-bodied curiosities. The
horses are snorting. My hostler, Gurban, looks back, and shaking
his fist, threateningly repeats: “Sasseri! Sasseri!”
We pass by Sasser Serai — a ruined stony square. We stopped
in the beautiful valley beside the current of the river Shayok.
On the right side of the stream passes the winter road to
Turkestan. By this road one avoids the passes, but one has to
cross the river very often, and in some places even to go with
the stream. In September the river reaches the height of one’s
shoulders, and is dangerous for horses and men. In addition,
the road takes almost a week longer. We shall go the shorter
way. Unexpectedly, we come into a narrow crevice between two
purple rocks. It is astonishing to what extent all signs of a road
often disappear. One has to pass these places more than once in
order to remember all the contours and windings of the road —
the unseen one. The colors are beautiful. Behind us are the
white giants. And it is strange to realize that we have just
descended from them. To the left — many sharply outlined snow-
peaks and yellow slopes. Straight ahead of us — the light gray
bed of Shayok, with some reddish and bronze-green little islands.
Beyond them are purple and velvety brown rocks. To the
right flows the river and clouds of snowy dust whirl about. The
sky is not at rest. Milky white clouds, like heavy threads, are
creeping behind Sasser. Had we hurried ahead one day toward
Sasser we would have avoided these snowy persecutions. The
September monsoon of Kashmir creeps along and pursues us over
the mountains, changing from a pouring rain into a severe
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
purga. The restlessness of Nature is reflected in the animals. The
horses are kicking; the dogs are snarling.
o • • • •
September 27th
At dawn, everything is again frozen. Everything is covered
with a deep snow. The horses are shivering. Now they will
have to ford Shayok. Like black silhouettes, the riders are hurry-
ing upon the light shore. They have succeeded in finding a
fording place, where the water reaches up only to the stomach
of the horse.
After the broad valley we dived down at once into a narrow
canyon. It was formed in an unusually fantastic way. In the
blue stream, the ice of the night was cracking. The red walls
were full of white cracks — like pages of runes. Again, unex-
pected ascents and turns in narrow passes. We emerged upon a
broad valley surrounded by vari-colored mountains. The varied
shining layers in the mountain slopes reflect some inner treas-
ures. On the slopes are moving two lonely figures — every new
being astonishes one in this silence. Are these not treasure seek-
ers? No, they are people from some caravan sent for roots
and twigs of withered bush, for their fire. After this, all pos-
sibility of obtaining fuel is gone and one must make provision
for several days.
Among the mountains are small, muddy lakes. On the mossy
shores quick little wood-snipes are scurrying. The altitude of
16,000 feet does not frighten them. Ravens are cawing. There
are very few eagles. On account of the lack of fuel we also
stopped unusually early — by two o’clock. The people went with
sacks to gather the roots of bushes. As on the frescoes of Goz-
zoli, appear the groups of faceted purple mountains, cut by warm
brown hillocks. Light yellow swamp grass covers the deep val-
ley. The black horses stand out with unusual sharpness against
the light yellow background. They seem immeasurably big.
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Here in the spaces of Asia originated the tales of the Giant
Bogatyrs. Either it is the height or the purity of the air which
makes all proportions bigger, and the rider, who appears from
behind a hill, looks like a giant. The middle-sized Kirghiz dog
takes on the proportions of a bear. The scale of measurements
is great here.
Mighty must be the streams in the mountains to leave such
broad river beds filled with these eroded pebbles. Reflected in
the beauty of the Grand Canyon you feel some tragic catastrophe.
Near Karakorum you feel the long incomprehensible labor as of
giants — is it not here that structures of the future were prepared ?
What a wind! The skin is chapped as though cut.
It is very difficult with the languages — in the caravan one hears
six languages absolutely unrelated to each other.
The provision of hay has disappeared. It is clear that the
hostlers have fed their horses with the hay. Nazar-bey screamed
something for a long time: Finally, we understood that our
cook ate up the hay. The cook was deeply offended.
The lama is informing us about various significant things.
Much of this news is known to us — but it is instructive to see
how, in various countries, is being reflected the very same con-
ditions. Different countries are as under glasses of different
colors. Again we are astonished at the knowledge of the organi-
zation of lamas. The whole of Asia is pierced as with roots by
this wandering organization. It is astonishing how quickly the
news spreads without any mail communications. And then, these
caravan fires, like glow-worms, attract unexpected listeners.
Quicker than by couriers, flies the winged news to the bazaars.
And they whisper beside the long pipe. . . . Understand!
September 2 8th
It is a cold night. Everything is firmly frozen. The entire
day was woven out of beautiful yellow and red tones. First we
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proceeded upon the steep, crumbling slopes of the red gorge. We
passed the old stony rampart — the remains of military fortresses
or frontier posts. Below were the iridescent, yellow, green and
ultramarine little streams. Afterwards, we crossed to the broad
old river bed — the hillside Debsang. For six hours we went
along all sorts of solemn sand formations. They are like pyra-
mids of giants ; like cities with cragged walls ; like solitary watch-
towers; like gates to some forbidden countries; like monuments
of battles, long-silenced. It is a full variety, never repeated,
colored with infinite feeling. I would like to stop here for a
week. But the caravaneers are looking at the sky where the icy
Kashmiri dragon already shows its stormy wings.
E. I. has been on horseback all the ten days. She does not
like small decisions. She had never been horseback riding and
here she suddenly went on horseback through Karakorum. And
always she is valiant and the first one ready. Even her knee
injured in Kashmir has somehow ceased to trouble her. It is
simply astonishing!
In the evening we reached Debsang davan. It became still
colder. It would be better if Debsang were called Ulan Korum,
meaning the Red Throne. At the entrance protrudes a powerful
rock like a red cap.
Be cautious with the mountain streams. They rejoice one with
their crystal purity but in the water behind a turn there may be
a dead horse or a camel with a bloody jaw.
• • • • •
September 29th
We passed Debsang. We went out upon the roof of the
world. It is impossible to call it otherwise. All the peaks have
disappeared. Before us there are seeming covers as of some
powerful inner domes. Looking at these sandy domes it is im-
possible to imagine one’s self at an altitude of 18,000 feet. Limit-
less spaces. To the left, far off, is Godwin’s White Peak. To
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the right on the horizon are the masses of Kuen lun. All is so
variegated and glorious and sweeping. The blue sky merges on
pure cobalt and the grassless cupolas are domes of a golden hue.
And the far-off peaks are silhouetted like pure white cones. The
file of the caravan does not disturb the silence of the highest road
of the world.
The hostler asks: “Why it is that here, at such a height is such
an even surface? What is there inside?”
We read a Latin inscription upon a stone, concerning the
camping of the Fillippi Expedition here. The men think that
a hundred cases of the expedition were buried in this place.
There is a sharp wind blowing. We are hurrying toward
Karakorum. We reach it but the crossing has to be left until
to-morrow morning. Karakorum means Black Throne. Its
black cap had been seen for several miles, but when we reached
it, it was already too dark to sketch or to take photographs. In
the evening we decided to go to Suget davan and Sanju davan
instead of Karghalik. It is true that Sanju is also higher than
18,000 feet and is considered difficult, depending upon the amount
of snow, but this way we save six days. Besides, on the way to
Karghalik is much water, and some of the men complain that
several times a day they have to go waist-deep in water, and in
October this is dangerous.
September 30th
Karakorum. Again everything is frozen. The morning begins
with a stinging blizzard. Everything is covered with mist. One
cannot sketch nor photograph. Vaguely the black cap of Kara-
korum at times gleams through.
All that we now see has nothing in common with what we
saw yesterday. Thus we proceed under the sharp wind from
seven o’clock to two in this rarefied air. The pass itself is broad
but not difficult except for those on foot. One has the strange
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sensation of feeling breathless even at the slightest movement.
Upon the crest of the pass is a small pyramid of stones — those
who pass, in spite of their breathlessness, do not forget to set a
landmark to commemorate the conquest.
The descent is not steep, but the wind becomes stronger. It is
necessary to cover the face with something, and one remembers
the usefulness of Tibetan silk masks for traveling. During the
day the snow slows down and beautiful white panoramas appear
— whole masses of snowy cupolas and cones. There are even
no birds.
At six o’clock we pause on a broad river bed. Around us in the
deep silence is a whole amphitheater of snowy summits. The
delicacy of the pearly tones is a sight never seen before. There
is a full moon — and the silence of cold, pure, undefiled nature.
We cross the highest road of the world, 18,600 feet. We cross
the frontier of China. Our Chinese meditatively utters: “Chinese
soil!” and for some reason shakes his head.
October 1st
We reached the division of the road to Kokyar or Sanju. Op-
posite Baksun Bulak is a wondrous white mountain — so fine, so
untouched and delicate in its profiles. The bright sun reminded
me of the frozen Fjords of Norway or the blue fairy-tale of
Ladoga in winter. But here it is all more broad and more
powerful. Before us, in the distance, are mountains etched with
white outlines, as upon the old Chinese landscapes. Near the
road grazed two Tibetan antelopes — one raised its head and
gazed long at the caravan. The Buddhists did not shoot them:
“We have enough food with us.” Some one else will betray
the confidence of these slender creatures. Right at the road lies
a donkey with a fragrant load of cinnamon. Where is his owner ?
The people explain that this tired little donkey has been left to
rest until the next caravan. There are no wild beasts here. And
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no traveler will break this special ethic of the caravan. We also
saw loads left by some people on Sasser. They remained
untouched.
October 2nd
In the frosty sun of the morning, before our camp, the snowy
Mount Patos was clearly outlined. Thus, the Mahatma Ak-
Dorje, passing from Tibet, named this highest summit of the
Ridge (Patos phonetically, but Aktag in the local dialect). The
mount stands above the division of road to Karghalik-Yarkand
and Karakash-Khotan. The path Karghalik-Yarkand is lower —
there are only two passes, not very high, but therefore having
many rivers. The Karakash-Khotan path is higher and more
mountainous. The passes are higher but on the other hand
shorter.
The mount towers like a cone between the two wings of the
white ridge. The lama, upon hearing about it, whispers: “The
great teacher was not against true Buddhism. He said ‘The true
Buddhism is a good teaching.’ ”
The day started peacefully. We continued from seven o’clock
on, up the gradual incline of Suget davan. The ascent is almost
imperceptible and it is not startling to see so many skeletons.
The peace of Nature forces you to forget the altitude. Near the
road lies a woolly little dog just as though alive. By three o’clock
imperceptibly, we reached the Pass itself. It is well always to
ask about the northern side of the Pass; this side is always severe.
And so it was here. The straight and easy way was suddenly
carved out into a powerful, jagged ascent. In the distance were
spread the white purple mountains covered by a somewhat
mournful design. A blizzard commenced; and into the bare
spots of the snowy dust, pitilessly resounded the almost bluish-
black sky. The path was completely covered.
Four caravans had assembled, comprising up to four hundred
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
horses. The loaded, experienced mules were first sent ahead; we
followed them. The entire descent was covered with the black
zigzags of the silhouettes of horses. The air vibrated with the
shouts of “Hosh! Hosh!” And everything crept down, stum-
bling, gliding and shoving. It was dangerous. The people were
astonished at the early snow. W reached the stopping-point only
at nine o’clock in the evening, by moonlight. The Turks quar-
reled with the Buddhists. Nazar-bey wanted to lead us some-
where far off. The Chinese rushed at him with a whip. The
human quarrels affected the animals. The horses began to snort.
The affair ended with a fight of the dogs — wild Tumbal hurt
Amdong very seriously.
E. I. goes on horseback for more than thirteen hours without
dismounting. It shows that the usual so-called fatigue may be
conquered by something else, more powerful.
October yd
Again, the piles of stones; red and yellow bushes appear, very
beautiful against the warm white haze of the sands. A meager
willow appears beside the stream. Partridges and hares are seen.
But as a whole, surprisingly few animals. We passed by some
old walls transformed into heaps of stone. The people are anx-
ious to reach the Chinese post, Kurul or Karaul-Surget. Gradu-
ally we descend. Already some kind of flat walls are seen.
Somebody runs out from behind the gates — then scurries to hide.
Some one comes out to meet us.
Amidst the wide hot plain, surrounded by snow mountains,
stands the clay square, Kurul. In the distance, enticingly glim-
mers Kuen lun. In the fortress are twenty-five soldiers, Sarts
and Kirghiz and one Chinese officer with a secretary and trans-
lator. We saw no arms. Only in the narrow room of the officer
hung a big single-barreled gun with a cock, like a duck’s head.
With this instrument one cannot shoot very much.
[142]
LEH-KARAKORUM-KHOTAN
If Shin-lo, this Chinese frontier officer here, would only know
how touched we were by his hearty reception! Isolated in these
far-off mountains, deprived of every means of communication,
this officer by his help and kindness reminded us of those traits
of the better China. It was so important to us — because we go
to China with sincere friendship and an open heart! And we
met and said farewell to Shin-lo most heartily. Out of friendship
we even unfolded our tents on the dusty yard of the fort. The
people wanted to remain here at least one more day, because the
desert has already begun. They rejoice. But we regret some-
thing unrepeatable: Crystals of the summits, will the lace of the
desert sands replace you? Other caravans arrive. They talk
around the camp-fire. Conversation, smiles, pipes and rest. They
whisper: “In Bhutan, they await the coming soon of Shambhala.”
— “First was India, then China, afterward Russia and now will
be Shambhala.” . . .
“In the Temple under the image of Buddha is an underground
boiling lake. Once a year they descend and throw into the lake
precious stones.” . . .
Thus is being discussed a whole saga of beauty. Camp-fires!
Fire-flies of the desert! You stand like banners of the people’s
decisions.
October 4th
We had not passed a mile from Kurul when we reached the
current of the river, Karakash daria, which means Black Nefrite.
Along the streams of Karakash were found certain kinds of
jade which gave to Khotan its past glory. One of the western
gates of the great Wall of China was even called the Jade Gate
because through it used to be brought these beloved stones. Now
in these places they do not even remember about the quarrying
of jade. The color of Karakash daria, so bluish-green, itself
recalls the best kinds of jade. It is a quick river, a joyous river,
[i43]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
a noisy river. And this is the native country, not only of jade
but also of gold. For several days Karakash daria becomes our
guide. We pass several Mazars — venerated Moslem graves. One
would think that their semispherical roofs, with a tower in the
middle, were nothing else than the forms of an ancient Buddhist
Chorten. When we approached the tomb of a saint, the Kirghiz
guide jumped down from his horse and with a beautiful gesture
offered his worship. It was difficult to expect from this clumsy
body so beautiful a movement.
Fort Shahidula is abandoned — it is the usual lonely clay square.
Besides, in these places, cannons have never yet made their
appearance and have not threatened the clay walls.
It becomes hot. The altitude is not more than 12,000 feet
and above 18,000 it affects the breathing. We receive word that
the yaks are ready for the passage of Sanju davan. Toward eve-
ning the shamal sprang up — the northeastern gale. For the first
time we were in the midst of a real sand ptirga. The red moun-
tains were hidden; the sky became gray. As high, thick pillars,
the sand rose and moved slowly in a spiral, penetrating every-
thing it encountered. The tents try to fly into midair. The
horses slink down and turn their backs to the winds. All color-
ings disappear and only Karakash hastens on — as emerald as
before.
• • • • •
October 5th
We proceeded through the entire day, along the Karakash. It
is difficult to remember how many times we forded the river.
In some places it reached up to the horse’s belly, in other places
it was lower than the knees. On one rocky edge the entire trail
was washed away. We had to hurry and cross along separate
bowlders in the tumult of the current. Again came a severe
stony road. Two horses of Nazar-bey broke their legs. Every-
where, the shamal of yesterday left its traces. Mountains are
[i44]
LEH — KARAKORUM — KHOTAN
covered with a gray haze. All day, a cloud of all-penetrating
dust hangs in the air. One’s eyes smart. The whole color-
ing is changed. The sky has become purple. Only the joy-
ous river glimmers as before with its greenish sparks. The
first little encampments of the mountain Kirghiz appeared —
yurtas covered the felts, or stony squares leaning against the
rock. Small fields begin. Here are small Kirghiz women in
high white head-dresses and red kaftans, some with peaked little
Kirghiz caps. If only the photographs are successful! A pic-
turesque group is set against the purple background of the sandy
soft tones of the mountains. On a tiny gray donkey, a woman
in a bright red kaftan and a high head-dress. In her arms is a
child in a light gray cover. Beside her is a man in a green
kaftan with a red-peaked hat. Above them the dim purple sky.
Who would wish to paint the Flight to Egypt? Very steep lie
the trails above the turbulent river. The camping site is in a
sandy valley, in the middle of which is a dusty caravanserai.
We have not the energy to stop in this yard permeated with dust.
On the neighboring slopes it is also difficult to camp. There
is either solid rock only, or soft shifting sands and neither of
the two holds the pegs of the tents. With difficulty we find a
spot. Gradually we discover the damage in the luggage. Here
is a lock torn away; there a ya\htan has been soaked when the
horse fell into the river.
Again, the camp-fires. Again there gather some sort of un-
known woolly people. We must say, however, that none among
these clumsy strangers did us harm. The notorious thievery of
the Kirghiz did not touch us.
Again, some of the whispers of the camp-fires: “Burkhan Bullat
(meaning the Sword of Buddha) appears at certain dates and
then nothing will withstand it.” — “Ulan Tserik became terribly
strong.” — “Everything that the enemies do will turn against
themselves.” — “More than a hundred years ago two scientist
[ 145]
ALT AI-HI MALAYA
Brahmins went to Shambhala and set out toward the north.” —
“The Blessed Buddha was in Khotan and from there decided
to go northwards.” — “In one of the best monasteries of China
the doctor of metaphysics is a Buriat.” — “In the big Monastery
the head Abbot is a Kalmuck.” — “On the picture of Buddha the
Conqueror the fire of justice flashes from the sword of the Blessed
One.” — “The Prophet said that Damascus would be destroyed
before the new era.” Thus the pilgrims are whispering on the
way of Gaya, Sarnath or to Mecca. We meet long files of gray-
bearded A\huns and veiled female figures on the road. They
are hastening before the approaching winter. They are a speedy
mail.
The day ended with a sliamal. Gigantic clouds of dust like
an invisible transmigration of the peoples. One must know
also this threatening image of Asia. Where else is there such
extremities of heat and frost? Where else are the winds so
unbearable after midday? Where are the rivers so treacherous
when they overflow during the floods and where are the sands
so pitiless? And where else is the gold not removed from the
banks? Where else are so many skulls gleaming white under
the sun? The broad hand of Asia!
October 6th
Again we make our way along the Karakash. We come to a
great old Kirghiz cemetery, mazars with the semispherical vaulted
roofs. Low tombs surrounded with staffs and with horse-tails
hanging on the ends. Unquestionably these mazars are very
often old Buddhist Chortens. Beyond the mazar, we leave the
stream of Karakash and begin noticeably to ascend the mountain
against the current of a mountain stream. The gorge gradu-
ally narrows here. At the left in the yellow sandstone moun-
tain we notice caves several stories high. They are like the
caves of Tun-huang. The natives and caravaneers say that they
[ 146]
LEH— KARAKORUM— KHOTAN
are old Kirghiz houses, but of course, we recognize here the
remains of a vanishing Buddhism. The approaches to many
of these caves have been worn away by the elements. High
above, like aeries, remain the isolated entrances. It is charac-
teristic that these caves are hidden not far from Sanju Pass as
if they protected themselves by these mountains, from the waves
of Islam. The hostler, Gurban, a Moslem, knows of other similar
caves in these regions but is somehow apparently scornful of
them. The caves nevertheless are very imposing.
An immeasurable antiquity emanates from these mountains.
The sandy haze elevates them seemingly into the skies. And
the mountains, instead of signifying limits and obstacles, tempt
us once again upward. We reach the very bottom of Sanju. We
had heard that there was no snow on the Pass but we had hardly
received this information when the Kashmiri dragon overtook
us and everything began to be covered with snow. It is a pierc-
ing storm. We are huddled together, awaiting the belated tents.
The caravan arrives in the dark. From the Pass, a black
avalanche of yaks is rushing on, and while running, almost
tramples down the camp. Noise and rumble. Snow and cold.
But the camp, crouched in the gorge, looks unusually picturesque.
Something, as of the paintings of old Bosch or Peter Breughel.
The fire-light shines on the bronze faces. Through the dark one
sees the horns of the black, invisible yaks. The wings of the
tents flutter like birds. On the rocks is the gigantic shadow of
Omarkhan. Again there are whispers of the desert: “Near the
holy mountain Sabur is seen an unknown ancient city. There
are many houses and Chortens.” To-morrow we must arise
with the stars. It is a long way — and at day-break snow and wind
will start up again to assail us.
October 7th
Nevertheless, the dragon overtook us during the night. Every-
f 147]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
thing is covered with snow and frozen. We try out the yaks.
We hurry on. The seventh pass is Sanju. It is the steepest one
— 18,300 feet. But it is not long. How clingingly the yaks pro-
ceed! We are again astonished at them. The saddle strap around
the chest of my yak gives away with a snap. We must bind it
with cords because on the steep descents one strap will not hold.
Only the very summit of Sanju is dangerous. There the yak
must skillfully jump across the crevice between two upper crags
of a bare rock. There you must resign yourself to the sure-
footedness of the yak. Gegen falls down from his yak, but
happily only bruises his leg. It might be worse. Of course on
the northern side is a great amount of snow. We must hasten;
and slipping on the sharp zigzags, we descend steeply. It is best
not to take mountain sticks with sharp points — those with flat
metallic points are better. In the silvery fog, the snow moun-
tains completely merge. It is a pity to bid farewell to the
heights, where, although it is cold, it is crystally pure and re-
verberating! There the word, desert, itself sounds like a chal-
lenge to all cities already transformed into ruins, or not yet thus
fallen.
Why does it seem so sad to depart further from Kwen lun,
from the most ancient ridge ?
The encampments of Mountain Kirghiz start again. The
women and children are clean — one does not see the dreadful
disfiguring skin diseases.
Down below in the sandy inclines are some dark hollows —
caves. From these caves woolly yaks creep out and transport you
into prehistoric times; then, also,, the same thing happened. In
the middle of the hillside, yellow worn-away hillocks are
amassed. From them protrude stone blocks of most fantastic
forms: Rhinoceroses, tigers, dogs and some sort of enthroned
skeletons — it is all the work of water which has long since flowed
[148]
LEH — KARAKORUM — KHOTAN
away. The hillside is fenced by the warm purple mountains.
One does not see snow in the direction of the desert. We stopped
near an aul comprising nine yurtas. Within, it is clean. They
bring out melons, watermelons and peaches which they get from
the Sanju Bazaar or the Guma Bazaar. The mountains are
alive with ringing echoes, barking and neighing thunder out like
trumpets in the mountain gorges. The Kirghiz women show
their embroideries but they will not sell; each works for herself.
October 8th
It is a short tranquil passage. We stopped ten miles from the
Sanju oasis. Isolated yurtas of Kirghiz are scattered about. Often
there is one boy driving a whole caravan of camels.
Each day patients come to us with stomach trouble or colds.
Once more we feel what mean the great sands of the desert —
all-penetrating, searing, impeding the breathing. What regret;
the mountains become visibly lower. The altitude of the path
is not more than 7,000 feet, while the southern part of the desert
is not lower than 4,000 feet. It becomes warmer and warmer.
A series of paintings, “Maitreya,” is conceived. Again there are
camp-fires. — “Rinpoche says that now the way is only through
Shambhala — everybody knows that” — “Many prophecies are
buried everywhere” — “Three campaigns of the Mongols” — “In
the desert behind Keriya a subterranean river flowed above the
ground” — “And when they dynamited the rock it was all not
of precious stones” — “And there, where one cannot pass, one
can go by underground passages.” . . .
Much is related and the matters of every day are interwoven
with something great and already predestined. Much is being
spoken about underground passages. But it is natural. From
many castles, which are glued to the rocks, long underground
passages were constructed to the water, and through these,
[ 149]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
donkeys used to carry the water. Gradually before us, rises a
new picture of significant lives.
October gth
Sanju — an oasis. We said farewell to the mountains. Of
course, we shall return to them. Of course, other mountains
are probably not worse than these — but it is sad to descend from
them. The desert cannot bestow on us what the heights have
whispered. As a farewell — the mountain bestowed on us some-
thing unusual: On the border of the oasis, just on the very last
rock which we could still touch, appeared the same designs that
we saw in Dardistan on the way back to Ladak. In the books
about Ladak, these are called Dard designs, although apparently
they bring us back to the Neoliths. And here, in Chinese
Turkestan, on the shiny brown masses of rock, are again, as light
silhouettes, the same archers, the same mountain sheep with
huge twisted horns and the same ritual dances, rounds and pro-
cessions of people. These are verily messengers of the transmi-
grations of the people. And there is some special meaning in
this, that these designs were left on the border of the mountain
kingdom. Farewell, mountains!
Groves of poplars and apricot trees appear, and beyond them
spreads the kingdom of the sand. It reminds us of Egypt along
the Nile, or of Arabia.
It is time for breakfast and we want to stop; but some riders
are galloping toward us and beckon us to come farther. There
is already prepared a dastar\han from the Kirghiz Elders. On
bright patterned felts, picturesquely are spread heaps of melons,
watermelons, pears, eggs, roast chicken and in the center, half
of a baked mutton. Here are round yellow cookies, with holes,
looking as if they might have been torn out of a painting by
Peter Aerdsen. It reminded us of dear Kluchino, Novgorod,
of our excavations of the Stone Age and of hospitable Efim.
[ 150]
LEH — KARAKORUM — KHOTAN
And here are the same kaftans, and beards, and colored girdles
and small caps bordered with wolf fur or beaver. As a matter
of fact, many of these bearded men know single Russian words
and are very pleased if they possess some small Russian objects.
They know almost nothing of America. It would be good to
distribute among these people books in Turki about America.
Thought should be given to this.
For the first time we saw Chinese soldiers, in uniforms of the
imperial times with red inscriptions on the entire back and
chest. Very ragged soldiers they were. The Kirghiz recruits
were minus uniforms altogether. Can such an army act at all?
One will ask, where then are the dangers? Where then are
the alluring attacks? Because in the cemetery in Leh there are
several monuments over the graves of murdered travelers. True,
but all these people were killed by the Kashmiris and Afghans.
No one was killed by a Ladaki-Buddhist. And then there is a
special delight in the consciousness that in the most distant un-
peopled place you are safer and less molested than in the streets
of Western cities. A London policeman at the entrance of the
East End inquires if you are armed and prepared for danger.
A night walk in the suburbs of Montparnasse or Montmartre in
Paris, or in Hoboken, near New York, is far more full of danger
than the paths of Himalaya and Karakorum. And the tornadoes
of Texas and Arizona — are they not equal to a gale on the heights ?
And, besides, these dangers of nature are essentially so joyous,
so greatly awaken the vigor and purify the consciousness. There
exist collectors of caustic exclamations of danger, but the most
unsafe bamboo or rope bridge evokes in you a stubborn resource-
fulness. What a pity, to descend out of the unpeopled spaces
to the whirl of the human crowd.
One stop beyond Sanju are said to be Buddhist antiquities.
[i5i]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
October ioth
We emerged into a completely different country. Here Ladaki
heroism is no more. No more are there the garlands of clear
singing of the Ladakis. It is strange that only among Ladakis,
did we find strong and agreeable voices. No more are there
the castles on the waterless, courageous peaks. No more the
suburgans and \urgans of fearlessness. The mountains have
disappeared into a gray mist. How now to live, and whither
to direct the eye ? Here are peaceful, agricultural, ignorant Sarts,
a forgotten oasis. Here are peaceful, agricultural slow Turki,
who have forgotten completely that they took part in the marches
of Jenghis Khan and Tamerlane. It is hot. In Sanju bazaar, it
is sandy. From behind the clay walls and fruit-trees are a multi-
tude of faces peeping out, full of fear and hiding — a whole
crowd. The colorings remind one of the Nijni-Novgorod Fair.
They offer us fruit and roasted mutton. Finally they bring us
a gift of a Kirghiz dog.
Bells ring out and into the Maidan comes riding a Chinese
official — again a very kind and obliging one. He is aston-
ished that he did not receive a letter about us from the Am-
ban of Yarkand but he explains that the Republic in China
has discarded special notifications if there is a Chinese pass-
port. And we possess a long passport under the name of
Loluchi — which means Roerich. Are the Chinese officials of
higher ranks so obliging? We hope that China will fulfill our
expectations. When we received the passport they assured us
of the help of all governors, of the deputation from the Uni-
versity of Peking. The Chinese official speaks about the passage
of the Roosevelts, who turned toward Yarkand. He tells us of
the ruins of the imperial palace twelve days from Khotan, which
until the present day still yields antiquities. We understand
it must be Aksu. Soon we start out on an old Silk Road. Here
is the first place where can be found antiquities, because these
[152]
LEH — KARAKORUM — KHOTAN
places as well as Khotan are mentioned in the literature of three
or four centuries before our present era. On the islands of the
deserts, in the oases, were the strongholds of the last multitudes
before the transmigration into unknown lands. Clouds stand
erect on the horizon, but these are not the usual clouds — these
are the plaits of whirling sands. Probably somewhere there is
as a strong buran.
October nth
Accompanied by the chirping of birds, amid the bleating of
the herds, beside the joyous gurgling of the ari\s, we left Sanju.
Soon we turned away from the oasis and ascended along the
sandy incline of a river bed and found ourselves in the real
desert. The hills reclined in weak, uncertain silhouettes. The
air vibrated on the horizon as though interweaving some new
formations. The full design of the sand spread out — this is the
veritable Unencompassable, over which passed the great hordes.
Jenghis and Tamerlane passed just here and, as upon the waves
of the seas there does not remain the trace of a boat, so on the
sands remains no vestige of those movements.
Here rises the whole tenderness, the whole mercilessness of
the desert. And the Kirghiz point to the hazy pink northeast —
there is the great Takla Makan! There are buried cities. There
is Kucha — the capital of the former Tokhars. Their manuscripts
are known to us — but does one know how to pronounce these
signs? By analogies one can read the letters, but the phonetic
indications of the sound has disappeared. Farther on, upon the
inclines of the mountains, is Karashahr — an ancient place. There,
long before it was covered, according to the evidence of Chinese
historians, the chalice of Buddha was brought to Karashahr from
Peshawar. And still farther, are the foothills of the heavenly
mountains where dwell the semi-dependent Kalmucks who re-
member their history, their mountains and the pastures and
[i53]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
sacred mounts. And still further lies the great Altai, which the
Blessed Buddha reached.
The shield of the sand quivers. The eradicable signs are ebbed
away. We inquire about antiquities. Much has already been
carried away from the desert — but still more remains hidden be-
neath the sands. One can find them only gropingly. And now
after a strong buran, from these depths emerge new stupas, new
temples and walls of unknown habitations. By the few signs,
would you say where the most important things are buried?
The inhabitants themselves in speaking are indifferent to the
discoveries.
In the distance you see from afar the herds of wild kulans.
From a distance, silhouetted, a rider approaches. From far he
looks at us, stops, dismounts and spreads out something white.
We approach and see a white felt on which are laid two melons
and two pomegranates. This is a dastarkjian from an unknown
traveler, met upon the way. An unknown friendly hand to a
guest. This is a veritable enchanted tablecloth, blanching amidst
the immeasurable sands. A greeting from the unknown — to the
unknown.
We reached Sanju, an inhabited dusty farming site. There
is a labyrinth of clay walls; already upon the children, one sees
tetter, a thing which we did not see in the mountains. We could
not find any antiquities. People tell us that two Chinese officials
came and took with them all the Buddhist antiques, which the
inhabitants had accumulated. If this be true — it means that im-
perial China begins to understand the significance of the study
of the old monuments. One must see if this story is altogether
true — or whether these officials did not take away these things
simply for their own benefit.
• • • • •
October 12th
From Sanju to Pialma we proceed along the same Silk Road—
[ 154]
LEH— KARAKORUM— KHOTAN
and “silky” it is not only because the silk caravans passed there,
but the road itself is silk and iridescent with all the combina-
tions of sand; a milky desert with the finest designs of sand
waves. The wind whirls the pearly dust and beneath your eyes
new lacy meshes are created upon the surface of the ground.
Old mile-posts are standing erect — the greater number of them
half-destroyed. Behind us little bells are ringing. On a big
gray horse the son of the neighboring Amban overtakes us. He
is going on a leave of absence to Tun-huang — before him he has
a journey of two months. He is curious — but very uncouth.
He gives us some information concerning Khotan, speaks about
the antiquities of Tun-huang. In Pialma there are also antiqui-
ties from Takla Makan.
It is a long passage. We proceed quickly from seven to half-
past four — but the people say that to-morrow’s road will be still
longer. We make our stop in a fruit orchard — it is infinitely
better than in Sanju where the camels, donkeys, horses, roosters
and dogs ceaselessly thundered their choruses through the entire
night.
• • • • •
October 13th
From Pialma to Zawa is about thirty-eight miles. We left
before dawn under the sign of Orion. For the first time during
the journey, we saw the beloved constellation. Again the desert.
Toward ten o’clock it is hot, reddened and searing. The stirrup
burns the foot through the boot. What must it be like in summer ?
It is not without cause that during the summer they travel by
night marches.
At the right, one sees the blue inclines of Kuen lun — they
remind us of Santa Fe. On the left, the pink sands of Takla
Makan — I recall the desert of Arizona.
The son of the Amban is singing Chinese namthars — sayings
about Chinese giants: Unexpectedly sharp, with nasal inhala-
[155]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
tions, with shouts and the beating of some sort of inexplicable
rhythms and final cadenzas. It is difficult to associate this with
the epos of giants.
Under the necks of the horses the small straps of bells are ring-
ing. Red tassels wave beneath the reins. So, did the great hordes
thunder here.
Three doves flew with us for a long time. Where could they
come from in this desert ? They were messengers ; they brought
us to a remarkable place, an old worshiped mazar and mosque.
There in the midst of the desert live thousands of doves pro-
tected by legend. Every traveler throws them a bit of corn.
This benevolent spot is much worshiped. The sight of these
countless flocks of doves breathes forth to you a strange surprise.
It is an unexpected San Marco. These doves are wayside mes-
sengers pointing out the way to the travelers of the desert. It
is said “one Chinaman killed and ate such a dove and died
immediately.”
The day ends with the golden grassy steppe with barhhans
which resemble \urgans. This is the beginning of the Khotan
oasis and reminds us of Southern Ukraine. In the evening there
is sadness — Amdong has perished. The Lhasan mountain dog
could not withstand the desert heat. What a pity! Amdong
reminded us so much of a Finnish dog; he was so woolly and
quick. Now there remains only black Tumbal — a ferocious one
frightening the population. In order not to lose this guardian
also we shall carry him in a palanquin to-morrow.
• • « • •
October 14th
From Zawa we go to Khotan. The entire path is along an
oasis: An unbroken line of villages, small bazaars and gardens.
They are harvesting the corn and barley. Again donkeys and
horses are performing all kinds of domestic work. Again the
[156]
LEH — KARAKORUM — KHOTAN
women have covered faces. They have small boyars’ hats and
white veils as on the Byzantine miniatures. Gradually, unno-
ticeably, we are entering the bazaars of Khotan itself. There
remains little of the ancient city. Khotan was known for its jade,
its rugs and its song. From all this naught is left. The carpets
are modernized; imitations of jade are common; of the songs
there are only the simple Moslem songs accompanied by a very
long two-stringed “guitar.” There now remain the industries
connected with silk, cotton, maize and dried fruits. There is
still an unattractive narrow bazaar and dusty alleys between the
clay structures.
Ancient Khotan was ten miles away from here, where is now
the village of Yotkan. As often happens, the most interesting
sites are those covered with mosques and mazars. The flow of
antiquity from Yotkan has almost ceased.
We stop temporarily in the dusty garden square in the center
of the city. We are trying to fight for a house in the suburbs.
It is not easy to obtain, because apparently it conflicts with some
one’s interest not comprehensible to us. In the beginning the
Chinese officials are decent. The honorary sentinels comprise a
guard of soldiers and beks. But they inquire if we will live here
for a long time. Visits to the Taotai, Amban and Military Gov-
ernor. Everywhere we have tea in little saucers with not elab-
orate sweets. Without delay come the return visits. The Mili-
tary Governor has a green coach lined with purple. The Taotai
has a two-horsed carriage and each horse has a separate wooden
arch above it. The bridles are all Russian.
Then comes a luncheon at the Taotai — it lasts from two to six.
More than forty courses. The victrola jangles out Chinese
legends and songs. Of course the rhythms are very complicated
and the variety of instruments can hardly be reproduced by the
noisy records. At the end of the luncheon the old official of the
[ 157 3
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
yamen becomes drunk and wailingly grumbles something, prob-
ably funny.
A native merchant suggests: “Instead of hiring help, buy a
dozen girls. The price of a good girl is thirty rupees.” But
we do not intend to buy girls although we are listening to it
seriously because we are accustomed not to be astonished at
anything; however, it is permissible to be astonished at the sale
of human beings.
It begins! Kerim Bek who was stationed with us happens to
be a blackguard. The stupidly smiling Amban says: “In the
house you can paint but outside not.” We inquire the reasons.
He smiles again still more stupidly and says the same thing. We
ask him to confirm this notification in writing. But he abso-
lutely refuses. We point out that it is precisely with the pur-
pose of artistic work that the expedition has been sent and that
it is included in our passport. The Amban smiles thrice stupidly
and repeats his unaccountable prohibition.
The most vivid spot of our entrance into Khotan was the
arrival of Tumbal in the palanquin. The Ladakis brought in his
woolly majesty to the bazaar with loud songs. The black crea-
ture scowled and sat very important. The crowd rushed to the
palanquin but immediately flew away from it along the entire
bazaar howling: “A bear!” All the officials coming to see us
considered it their duty to inquire about the fearful beast and
the Military Governor, wanting to look at our Tibetan animal,
for safety’s sake took George by the hand. Wonderful guards
are these Tibetan wolfhounds!
October 24th
We return home in the evening from the Taotai. The raven
[158]
LEH— KARAKORUM— KHOTAN
horses of “the honorary escort” become startled and frighten
our horses. By moonlight, silently stand the towers of the Con-
fucian temple with their gongs. The gongs have been silent all
the time.
The road lies northward. Straight ahead, low over the horizon,
brightly lies the Great Bear. . . .
[i59]
Part VII
KHOTAN
(1925-1926)
Our faithful Ladakis had intended to go with us to the most
distant parts. In Khotan they soon became somewhat depressed.
They wandered through the bazaars; they complained that the
people pulled their braids; they grieved because of the Chinese
officials. They assured us that the Chinese Taotai would order
them beaten. They said that the Taotai himself had killed a man.
At last the whole sack-garbed crowd of Ladakis came; they
smiled, they shifted about, they crowded close to one another,
they repeated what good yum-\usho (mistress) and yab-\usho
(great gentleman), we were; and finally with tears they begged
us to let them go home. They hinted that if we would go
further on our way at once they would remain with us, but that
in Khotan it was impossible to live. They left us very touch-
ingly, hurrying through the snowy passes. Although it was
only the beginning of November they were held back in Sanju
where the crossing had become impassable. We then appreci-
ated the advice we had had, to start as early as possible, because
just after our passage, there started a continuous blizzard and
the severest frosts.
We did not even consider their statement that it was impossible
to live in Khotan; but soon we were convinced that our simple
friends, who had valiantly gone through all the skeletons of
Karakorum, had become saddened in Khotan, not without cause.
The strangest symptoms began. Not only did they not want to
give us a suitable house, but they assured us that we would have
[ 160]
KHOTAN
to live at the bazaar where it would be more convenient for the
Taotai to watch us. When we ourselves made an effort to find
a suitable house in the outskirts, there was a mass of obstacles
which we had to overcome fearlessly ourselves. Our well-wisher,
Kudai Berdi Bai, and the Afghanistan Aksakal helped us greatly
to procure the house, but the Amban permitted us to make an
agreement only for one month. He signified through this that
we were undesirable tenants, yet neither would he permit us to
leave. The permission to sketch was not given. A repulsive
Bek was stationed to watch us. Finally there came a new Amban
and the affair became still more complicated.
The Taotai’s child became ill. They asked E. I. to come and
help. The cure was successful and all three officials came seem-
ingly to thank us. But their conduct was outrageous. They
laughed, gesticulated, spat and said that our passport was alto-
gether unauthentic. They proposed to insult Mr. Cheng-lo (the
Chinese Ambassador in Paris) for giving out such a passport.
Everything, verily, assumed ugly proportions. But these were
flowers — the berries appeared the next day.
The Amban came and said that a telegram had been received
from Urumchi, from the governor of the province, with the
demand to expel our Expedition, and precisely through Sanju.
This meant a return through a path closed by snow in winter.
Of course we were already accustomed to the hypocrisy of the
officials of Khotan, and we did not doubt that there was no
telegram and that the whole story was a fraud. “However,”
added the tempestuous Amban, “if you will personally ask Mr.
Taotai maybe he will show some clemency.” One should note
that the officials did not permit any of our telegrams to pass,
and we had to search for an opportunity to send telegrams to
New York, Peking and Paris, by roundabout ways through the
consulate in Kashgar. Besides this, the Amban pointed out that
[161]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
the officials had the complete right to take away all my artist’s
equipment.
The next day the Taotai changed his anger into clemency.
And on account of the cure of his son by E. I., he notified us that
he would not expel us by way of Sanju. But his clemency, be-
cause of the cure of his son, quickly evaporated and the officials
threatened to search our house. Finally on December 29th the
search took place. Our arms, three guns and three revolvers,
were sealed and taken away. They said that in Kashgar we
might receive them back. The permits from the British officials
to carry arms were not even taken into consideration. When
the enormous case was brought into the room for the packing
of the arms, even the Chinese stepped back, murmuring “a
coffin.” E. I. added “This is the coffin of such type of officials.”
It would seem that the inventions of oppression were already
exhausted, but ignorance prompted one more “game.” They
notified us that our American papers did not interest officials
and demanded pre-war passports. With this, the “wise” officials
of Republican China demanded nothing less than the old im-
perial passports. Quite accidentally we had with us an old pass-
port and the Certificate of the Swedish Order of the Northern
Star. The “buffalos” copied this and the other one, and pretended
to send it somewhere.
The demand for a pre-war passport after nine years of Chinese
revolution showed us that the officials of Khotan are not only
ill-qualified, but that they are limitlessly ignorant; and to remain
here would be even dangerous. We plan to go immediately to
Kashgar and Urumchi in order to find a more sensible admin-
istration. My dear friends, if you want to try out your cold-
bloodedness and patience, go to the city of Khotan. Here Taotai
Ma, and Amban Chang Fu, will teach you with all their medieval
resourcefulness. Before our departure, we heard a rumor in the
bazaar that serious trouble was brewing for the Taotai. It is
[ 162]
KHOTAN
rumored that he received the position of the Taotai and the star
from the governor of the province, for the murder which he
himself executed of the military governor of Kashgar last year;
however, it is revealed that the murder was accomplished not by
him alone but also by the soldiers. Now one may believe that
all murderers must become Taotais.
The details of the murder are medieval. The captured man
was crucified and after two days of crucifixion the present com-
mander of Khotan shot at him at such close range that the blood
spurted upon the victor. At the same time his soldiers were also
shooting with him.
I am writing with sorrow for the Chinese. I can imagine how
the best Chinese will blush for such contemporaries! Let us
recall the tales of Sven Hedin, how Chinese officials searched
his trunks for Russian soldiers; how Filchner gave his signed
waiver to the Amban that he had no claims against them for
robbery; how badly Prjevalsky fared in Khotan; how Kosloff
was forced to enter the court of the Amban with twenty Cos-
sacks to quell the lawlessness. It is sad to realize and to see that
the new order of the state has not yet changed its gloomy medi-
evalism. Let the Amban get along without the aid of a handker-
chief for his nose — that is not important. But let the Amban at
least know something.
During the search of our things, the Amban recalled several
times that the Russians at the frontier of Manchuria bro\e his
teapot ; all his petty rancor revealed itself in this information.
And another very heinous crime did the Russians do; think only,
they vaccinated the wife of the Taotai from Aksu! — This felony
is related with rancor. During the search of our things, E. I.
indignantly said to the Amban, who ordered that the yakhtan
containing her own things be opened: “Look, Amban, there is
my corset.” And so the wife of the Taotai from Aksu was
avenged! Our Chinaman is indignant and shocked: While
[ 163]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
he, a Chinese officer and diplomat, with a literary reputation,
stood by, they usurped and carried away our arms! They
deprived the Expedition of its means of defense. He says: “This
is the work of robbers.” Local Moslems come, advise and warn
and try to show sympathy. One can imagine what these quiet,
cowed people, who have lost their identities, have to bear.
One can imagine how much the Chinese intellectuals, students
and youths have to stand, they who are so sensitive to the grime
of license.
It is necessary to find ways to depart. We must go, in spite
of the frost. The camels are ready. The old Chinese whispers:
“Tell the escorting soldiers, if they have guns, to go in front and
not in the rear — Chinese shoot from behind.” The banner of
the Expedition is ready. It will be carried in front. Tzung
sewed it; red with yellow and the inscription in black: “Lo, an
American Art Officer.”
The Amban does not know anything about art. The Bek —
of Mongolian descent — instructs him politely by means of the
following ancient legend: “In olden times in Kucha lived a cele-
brated painter. Once, as a deposit against a loan, he brought
his painting representing a head of cabbage and a butterfly and
asked 3,000 sar (equivalent to $2,700). A boy, who was taking
the place of the owner, gave him the requested loan. The owner
returned. He was indignant that for a cabbage and a butterfly,
one should give so much money. He chased away the boy and
considered the money lost. Winter came and on the appointed
day the artist brought the money and asked to have the painting
back. They took out the painting and the owner, to his terror,
saw that the butterfly had disappeared from the picture. The
artist demanded his complete picture as described. The owner
was upset. The painter said, ‘So you have unjustly thrown out
the boy. But now only he can help you.’ The owner called
[ 164]
KHOTAN
the boy. The boy for three days kept the picture near the fire
and the butterfly appeared again. Then the boy said: ‘You have
not appreciated the artist, but he is so perfect that his colors
have all the qualities of nature. The butterflies appear in the
warm summer-time. For the winter they disappear. The same
happens also in the painting. Only the warmth of the fire re-
called the butterfly to life in winter as well. So perfect is this
painter.’ And the owner was ashamed and adopted the boy
and made him rich for his wisdom.” So does the Bek teach the
Amban, but even the Buddha said in the Sutras: “The greatest
crime is ignorance.”
Among the Moslems, news has spread about the destruction
of Damascus. The Moslems are indignant. Precisely by harm-
ing the sanctuaries and by pillage will this breach be most easily
defined forever. In Paris they cannot even imagine how quickly
through the depths of Asia fly bird-messengers. However, the
flow of Moslem thought deserves great attention. One Moslem
asked us why Muntazar, Messiah, Maitreya, all start with the
same letter M. Is this not the very same manifestation? They
also asked about Buddhism. They listened very attentively to
the statement of Buddha being also a man, but being great
through his supreme knowledge ; of Buddha reverencing woman-
kind; of Buddha having himself shown the manifestation of
Maitreya. One day Kalmucks came from Karashahr. They
came to make obeisance before Buddhist objects which we pos-
sess. Kalmucks know that here Buddha passed going northward.
It is interesting to notice that Sir Charles Bell in his last book
about Tibet points out that Buddha might have been of Mon-
golian descent. Nepal is populated by Mongoloids and the tribe
of Sakya might have been sprung from them. Then, especially
interesting is the direction of Buddha northward. All signs,
all that remains, must be examined anew. The gigantic image
[165]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
of Maitreya, on the rock near Maulbeck, is often mentioned and
described. It does not occur to one that the whole huge rock
ought to be investigated from all sides. But when we were
already in Khotan quite accidentally we heard about a Chinese
inscription on the reverse side of the rock. It was an immeas-
urable pity to have lost this possibility; because a Chinese was
with us. And then, what could this unexpected language have
meant? One can expect Sanskrit, Pali, Tibetan and even Mon-
golian! But why did a Chinese hand write upon the rock of
Maitreya? Monuments should always be approached with an
open mind.
The antiques in Khotan are really exhausted. During the
two months, outside of two or three fragments, and a dozen imi-
tations, nothing was brought to us. And the occupation of seeking
for treasure has ceased. And the tales breathe of old com-
munications already described by Sir Aurel Stein. Yotkan —
meaning the site of old Khotan — is really populated by peaceful
Sarts and covered by Moslem cemeteries. Just as Italian anti-
quarians often refer to the name of Bode, here also now they are
continually speaking about Sir John Marshall or about Sir Aurel
Stein. There have not remained any ancient objects in daily use.
Life is congealed as happens before a wave of new constructions.
Why, in point of fact, is Khotan considered a commercial center
of Chinese Turkestan ? We do not see the nerve of this commerce.
We live on a big road branching to Aksu, Kucha and Tun-huang,
to the Province Kansu and into the depths of China. But seldom
do the bells of camels sound. Seldom does one hear the call of
the donkeys. By such steps the rotations of industry are not
being created. The rug industry has deteriorated considerably,
it is now conventional and without life. Properly speaking the
Khotan designs have completely degenerated. The jade has
disappeared. And another characteristic pointed out by ancient
[ 166]
KHOTAN
authors has disappeared: singing has ceased, and has been re-
placed by fierce screams. In contrast with such singing, that
of the Ladakis is full of rhythm and freshness. When a people
has ceased to sing, it means that they are greatly depressed.
It is strange to think that this is the very same Khotan to
which Fa-hsien in the fourth century of our era dedicated the
exalted description: “This country thrives happily. The people
are rich. They are all Buddhists and find joy in music. There
are more than 10,000 members of communes and they almost all
belong to Mahayana. They all live and derive their support
from the commune. The villages are spread on big expanses
and before the door of each house is raised a small pagoda
(Suburghan). They all are very hospitable and provide the
guests with everything that is necessary. The ruler of the coun-
try placed us in Gomati, which belongs to Mahayana. At the
beating of gongs all members of the commune gather for a meal.
All sit in harmonious order and keep silence, and do not clatter
with the dishes. . . . Some of us went on to Kashgar.” . . .
To what extent can reality be changed! The present evidence
does not relate contemporary Khotan with its past, just as the
Appian Way or the Road to Ostia do not lead to the present
Roman Rome.
It is a pity that Fa-hsien did not travel further than Kashgar
in what is now Russian Turkestan, because everywhere there
and even in Persia are traces of Buddhism, not at all discovered
yet. And Bokhara is nothing else than Vihara, the distorted
name of a Buddhist monastery. George successfully discovered
this philogical transformation in Paris and Pelliot absolutely
agreed with him. Pamir, Afghanistan, Persia — everywhere are
traces of those flowerings of culture, when as chronicles say:
“The art was incomparable, and a work of art and a book were
the best gifts.”
[167]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Tsung had a dream. We three, E. I., George and I, with
sabers, slashed Yang-tu-t’u. Tsung comes running to tell it and
laughs: “A very good dream. Now all the victory will be yours,
and Tu-t’u will fare badly.” Tzi Han Chen interprets this
dream and also smiles broadly with pleasure that, if only in a
dream, Tu-t’u fared badly. Tsung emphasizes the importance
of the dream: “If Tu-t’u treats the great guests badly things
will fare badly with him and he will not live.” So in far-away
Khotan is rendered a verdict against Tu-t’u in Urumchi: “More
than a year he will not live.” We speak to the Sart about this
decision. He laughs. “You have already replaced Kerim-Bek,
evidently the truth will assert itself with Tu-t’u.” Although
Tu-t’u makes fun of the Peking government he himself is sitting
in a furnace of hatred. Who will sit in his place ? The Khotan
robber, Ma, or Aksu or the one from Kuldja with his Man-
churians? Any enterprising troops can easily take Sinkiang.
The pilgrims are passing on their way bringing new messages.
In Urga will be set a place for the Temple of Shambhala. When
the image of Rigden-japo will reach Urga, then will flash the
first light of the New Era — truth. Then will the true renaissance
of Mongolia begin. In Kucha, in the bazaars, recently two arriv-
ing lamas distributed images and a prayer of Shambhala. Here,
also, the nuclei of revivified Buddhism have found shelter. The
celebrated Suburghan near Khotan must be the place of one of
the manifestations of the New Era. Khotan is the path of
Buddha. Burkhan Bulat is near Khotan. The magnets of the
ways are planted “as truly as under the stone of Ghum lies the
prophecy about the New Era.”
The Maitreya Series comprises seven parts: i. “Shambhala
Approaches.” 2. “The Steed of Happiness.” 3. “The Strong-
holds of the Walls,” 4. “The Banner of the Future.” 5. “The
[168]
IGNS OF MAITREYA
(Maitreya Scries)
KHOTAN
Power of the Caves.” 6. “The Whispers of the Desert.” 7.
“Maitreya the Conqueror.”
December 1st
One cannot imagine a more striking contrast than the tones
of the Himalayas and Ladak in comparison with the desert.
Sometimes it seems that one’s eyesight is gone or the eyes are filled
with dust. And where are the crystals of purple, blue and green ?
Where is the abundance of fiery yellow and vivid red colorings ?
It is like a gray and dusty storeroom! The all-penetrating cor-
rosions of time cut the skin like glass and eat the tissues. The
eye is so accustomed to tonelessness, that, not glimpsing any col-
ors, it slides as into a void. Also, unnoticeably, a sand storm starts
up and our black Tumbal becomes woolly gray. Sometimes the
stars are beautiful. Occasionally we are reminded of the charm
of the mountains by the faint blue range of Kuen lun. The
donkeys are bemoaning their lot. And the home-made mowing
machines also groan. The gigantic goiters of the people are
repulsive. Some say they are “from the water.” Others, “this
is already such a race.” The size of the goiters seriously affects
the nerves and psychology of the consciousness. The frost begins.
The water in the creeks is covered with ice.
The lama says that one very learned Buddhist in Ladak
wanted to arrange a discussion with George on the subject of
Buddhism. At that time the lama was timorous about arrang-
ing the discussion. He says: “I was uncertain whether your son
could speak about the foundations of the teaching. Nowadays
there are so many foreigners who call themselves Buddhists, but
they do not know anything and judge according to untruthful
books and commentaries. Nowadays there are many such pseudo-
Buddhists. But now I am sorry that I did not arrange this
debate in Ladak because your son knows everything. He knows
[ 169]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
more than many learned lamas. Here I have put various ques-
tions unnoticeably and gradually to you; and you have explained
to me everything. It is a pity that in Ladak we did not have an
opportunity to speak. Once I was traveling here with the great
scientist, P. I asked him various questions but he did not answer
them. He only became angry, because he did not know how
to answer.”
The lama would like very much to see the Khazars, a Mon-
golian tribe which remained after the invasion in Afghanistan.
January ist, 7926
The lamas often repeat the words of Buddha: “An oil lamp
starts to smoke before extinguishing.”
Instead of being able quietly to depart from the rule of the
Taotai there arise new insults and senseless difficulties. Our
things are already packed. The camels are ready. We feel joy
at leaving dangerous Khotan. But January ist, early in the morn-
ing, comes a messenger from the Taotai, and in embarrassment
tells us: “Mr. Taotai specifies that you go through Tun-huang
not through Kashgar.” We say: “Our arms were taken away.
To go through the desert without arms is impossible. Not only
every expedition, but every merchant going through the desert
has arms with him. Besides, money has been sent for us to
Kashgar. Moreover, our co-workers, the Americans, go to
Urumchi. And fourth, the Taotai himself has just approved our
going to Kashgar.”
The messenger smiles, “All this is true. But Mr. Taotai sent
me to tell you to go through the sands to Tun-huang.”
“But it is difficult to go there! But the Taotai himself said
that in the Province of Kansu are robbers!”
“Quite true. But Mr. Taotai changed his decision and indi-
cates for you the path through the desert to Tun-huang.”
“It means that we cannot see either Yarkand, nor Kashgar,
[ 17° ]
KHOTAN
neither Aksu or Kucha. All these orders of the Chinese officials
bring insult to the United States!”
“Speak yourself with Mr. Taotai. To-day is New Year and
if you will beg Mr. Taotai very well maybe he will again change
his orders.”
“But we don’t want to beg. We desire justice.”
The messenger only smiles and suggests again that we go
to-day to the Taotai.
Here also the people whisper to us a colorful detail: The case
for our arms, without special reason, was made of a very huge
size, like a coffin, and was carried on poles by four people. This
procession went into the court of the Taotai during his festival
lunch. The Chinese again whispered, “a coffin.” And the Taotai
himself became pale and ordered them quickly to carry the case
out of his court into the yamen of the Amban. He knows that he
is committing an offense for which he will have to answer.
We go to the Taotai. As is prescribed for the action of a tragic
Grand Guignol, the drama must be combined with the side-
show: On our way we meet a procession carrying paper dragons,
rocks, fish and all sorts of tinsel. They are coming in our direc-
tion to congratulate us on the New Year.
The conference with the Taotai exceeded all limits of patience.
We told him about the necessity of changing American checks in
Kashgar. We told him about the necessity of having our teeth
attended to. We told him about the hurried necessity of com-
municating with New York. We said that by his conduct he
offended the dignity of America. We told about all causes and
reasons. But the Taotai answered that we could go either
through the Sanju Pass back to India (which is obviously ridicu-
lous because the Pass is covered with ice until June) or we could
go through the desert to Kansu (without arms, though infested
with robbers, against whom he himself had warned us) ; or we
would be detained in Khotan. I pointed out that our forced
[ 171 ]
ALT AI-HI MALAYA
detention was an arrest for which we gave no cause. The Taotai
repeated the same words, insisting that our passport, which was
given by order of the Peking government, was not valid. Is it
possible that Mr. Chang Lo, the representative of China, at the
League of Nations, does not know how to give a passport? But
the Taotai had never heard of the League of Nations. I pointed
out that in view of such offensive conduct, I desired to leave
China completely. The Taotai repeated the same thing. The
people behind the Taotai’s back laughed and pointed to his head.
We disputed unceasingly. It was impossible to follow up this
complicated fissure of ignorance and madness. The Taotai was
trying to annihilate our sympathy for China. We remembered
one of our acquaintances, a progressive Chinese, in America.
Listening to my defense of China, he somehow withered and
asked sadly: “And you yourself, have you already been in China?”
I answered, “I am intending to go there.” He added: “We shall
speak after your return.”
And so we returned to our house arrested. We sat upon our
packed trunks and we ended the New Year’s Day by composing
a written address to the Consuls of Kashgar: “The Roerich Ex-
pedition on the eve of leaving for Kashgar has been arrested by
the Chinese officials of Khotan without cause occasioned on the
part of the Expedition.
“In view of the absence of a United States Consul, we are
addressing ourselves herewith to the representatives of foreign
governments in the city of Kashgar with the urgent demand
that they show the most serious consideration in obtaining per-
mission at once for the Expedition to proceed to Kashgar. In
the event that permission of the Kashgar Taotai be insufficient
we beg that they telegraph at our expense to the Governor-Gen-
eral of the Province of Urumchi.
“Three causes compel us precipitately to hurry on. These
are: First, the necessity to communicate with our representatives
[ 172]
KHOTAN
from America; second, the necessity to see the doctor of the
Swedish Mission; third, the necessity of receiving money in
Kashgar.”
And so we shall wait. Our letters at best can reach only in
nine days, if they reach at all. We have received back five of
our very important telegrams undispatched. Everything has be-
come really dangerous, because the officials are in every way
hindering our communications with America. Our arms are
seized. Of what else do they wish to deprive us ?
We have received a note about the seizure of our arms. It
begins thus: “I am giving this paper for the reason that before
me appeared a foreign man, Hulitzu, the other name, Loluchi,
etc.
It appears that Hulitzu means Roerich and Loluchi is also
Roerich. Who can make anything out of this diabolic nonsense!
It is significant that America is again completely ignored in
this manuscript. It seems that altogether the Taotai, even more
than Columbus, doubts the existence of some kind of unknown-
to-him America, which is called Mei-Kuo.
E. I. is very depressed. She set out with such an open heart.
She says: “What shall one do with humanity; these are not
men.” George is very downcast: “But that China, which is
shown to us in museums and lectures, has nothing in common
with what is occurring!” Our Chinese has drooped altogether,
and begs us not to speak of anything because they will kill us,
“because these are thieves, murderers and dogs!” The lama
whispers, “The Chinese never act differently.” All this becomes
dangerous.
Sir Aurel Stein gives in his book, as an authentic fact, that the
Taotai in Kashgar for a few years of his administration trans-
ferred to Hankow in his name 2,000,000 taels. We thought this
communication impossible, although Sir Aurel Stein is an
authoritative scientist. But is it possible? Is it possible? . . .
[ *73 ]
And you, builders of new China, how hard it must be for you!
And are you many? But of course the history of the world has
always been created by the minority.
I hope that the Roosevelts had it easier. They happily avoided
the sack of Khotan. And withal, hunting in the mountains
saves one from daily communications with the Taotai and Am-
ban. In the mountains no one harmed us, nor placed obstacles
in our way. And there was no one to change his decisions daily.
And after all, this is not a difference of psychologies. And our
Chinese and the Moslems equally understand the whole danger-
ous absurdity of the situation. Just now some one offered to find
a faithful man who would place our letter to the Consuls into
the postbag, because to-day near the post office some suspicious
watchers were noticed.
• • • • •
]anuary 2nd
A merchant came inquiring about the possibilities of commer-
cial connections with America. But what connections can there
be if Khotan meets in such hostility those coming from America ?
One may not enter and may not leave. Such commercial con-
nections!
• • • • •
The more hostile the officials are to us, the more sympatheti-
cally is the population inclined toward us. They offer to send
over our addresses to the Consuls in a more certain way. Our
people are sincerely indignant, especially at the seizure of the
arms. They say: “They will never return the arms.” Three
Chinese advise us to go on Russian roads. They express the
belief that the officials, as usual, want to extort a large bribe.
Our case is being discussed from all sides at the bazaar. To-day
the Bek accompanied George even during his ride. It means
that the surveillance over us is intensified.
[ 174]
KHOTAN
I am writing all these details because it will be useful for others.
Verily, it is instructive! We have a passport from the Peking
government; a special letter of recommendation from the Chinese
Ambassador in Paris; a wonderful letter from the United States
Consul in Calcutta; a letter from the Victoria and Albert Mu-
seum in London; a letter from the Archaeological Society in
Washington; letters from six institutions in the United States.
With us is a Chinese, a former officer and diplomat. With us are
books published about my paintings. With us are English,
French and other passports. And even with this complete sym-
posium, one risks falling prey to the tyranny of dangerous des-
pots. All this is very instructive.
Just now they have brought a new “authentic” communica-
tion from the bazaar. Don’t you see, during the search of our
house were found many machine guns. To-morrow they will dis-
cover that my pictures are wings of aeroplanes. They speak
about a Great Foreigner who travels from Tibet on ioo horses!
On verifying this, it comes out that this is also about us.
• • • • •
January yd
They speak in the bazaar about the fight of the ten Chinese
generals. They speak about the death of Chang-Tso-Lin. They
speak about foreigners who brought four hundred cases of arms.
On verification, it appears that this rumor is also about us. To-day
our letter to the Consuls left. The men are afraid to go through
the desert without arms. It is impossible to foresee into what
the present events will resolve themselves.
January 4th
A Sunday bazaar communication: At the bazaar the Kalmucks
were betting about our success. And the forecasting was suc-
cessful, as never before. And they ran to communicate it to us.
The Taotai himself with his foolish raids is helping in the spread-
[ 175]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
ing of absurd rumors. We shall in some way or other leave,
but he will strangle himself in his garden of madness. I have
decided to communicate with America and to give up the plan
of going through China. I have too many reasons against it. I
undertook to paint but I did not agree to pursue foolish con-
troversies with madmen. One can cross the highest mountains,
one can find a common tongue with the most primitive tribes,
but savages in dress clothes with decorations and many wives, are
absolutely not acceptable and do not enter into any evolution.
• • • • •
They come to ask us to help a woman going through a dif-
ficult childbirth. Of course we are helpless. But the Chinese
knows a sure remedy: “This is the devil sitting under the bed and
it hinders the woman from giving birth. One has to shoot with
a gun under the bed and the devil will run away and the woman
will give birth immediately!” The Chinaman has another con-
jecture; he says with a very important air: “The Tibetans are
fools. They think that in heaven there is only one dragon. This
is foolish. In the heaven there are a dragon and a bird. One
dragon cannot make rain.” The Chinese also knows that there
exists a district where only women live and they give birth only
to girls. He dislikes very much " revived corpses”
We are formulating for the Governor-General our accusation
against the Taotai as follows: We accuse Ma-ta-jen Taotai of
Khotan of the following: i. Of a deeply insulting attitude toward
the dignity of the United States of America and toward the cul-
tural goal of our expedition. 2. Of his insulting refusal to take
into consideration the letter from the Consul-General of the
United States in India. 3. Of his insulting prohibition put upon
the pursuit of artistic work in Khotan under threat of confiscat-
ing all art materials belonging to the expedition. 4. Of the
insulting refusal to take into consideration all letters and authori-
[ U6]
KHOTAN
zations from the American institutions which have organized the
expedition. 5. Of the insulting behavior toward our personal
dignity. 6. Of the insulting refusal to recognize as valid our
Chinese passport given to us by order of the Peking government,
through Mr. Cheng Lo, the Chinese Ambassador in Paris. 7. Of
the refusal to take into consideration the letter given by Mr.
Cheng Lo to all governors of Turkestan. 8. Of forcibly detaining
the expedition in Khotan which ruined the scheduled plans of the
expedition. 9. The insulting seizure of all our arms (two guns,
one hunter’s gun and three revolvers), which deprived the expedi-
tion of all means of defense, although every traveler crossing
the desert carries arms. 10. Of the insulting and inhuman threat
to send the expedition beyond the boundaries of China through
the Pass of Sanju closed with snow. n. Of the insulting refusal
to take into consideration the presence in the expedition of a
middle-aged lady. 12. Of insulting and inhuman intent to send
the expedition to the desert in the direction of Tun-huang with-
out arms, without money and with the members suffering from
their teeth. 13. Of the insulting and humiliating change of his
own orders each day. 14. Of the insulting and inhuman refusal
to permit a personal consultation with the doctor of the Swedish
Mission in Kashgar. 15. Of the insulting refusal to permit us to
arrange our money affairs personally in Kashgar. 16. Of his
insulting demand that we show the invalid pre-war passport, nine
years after the revolution. 17. Of his insulting refusal to permit
us to communicate with American institutions from Kashgar.
If Ma-ta-jen, the Taotai of Khotan, would like to follow the
indications from the Governor-General at Urumchi he would
strive to direct the expedition just there. His repeated refusals
to permit us to proceed to Urumchi via Kashgar show his criminal
intentions. The above-mentioned accusations force us to demand
a full and immediate satisfaction.
• • • • •
[ 177]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Also one must notice that in all negotiations, we pointed out
to the officials that such actions as theirs would reflect on the
Chinese students and Chinese quarters so numerous and wide-
spread in America. But it was clear that the fate of their com-
patriots did not interest the criminal officials in the slightest.
Our lama informs us that a lama known to him was going
on a pilgrimage to Tibet and was arrested by Chinese officials.
The lama gave a bribe to the local colonel of a thousand lan,
a horse and two pieces of cloth. And in the night the latter let
him through. The lama walked for nine days by crossing at
night and during the day hid himself in the sands.
January $th
Vedantists call Buddhists “Nastika.” It means godless people.
However, Vedanta also does not concede a personal god but
knows only the principle. The formula of initiation of a Buddhist
is: “I take refuge in Buddha; I take refuge in The Teaching;
I take refuge in the Order.” Does not this formula lead to end-
less knowledge — Buddha the man, the greater teacher of light,
reverencing knowledge and summoning to go fearlessly along
the path of general well-being. The entire contemporary evolu-
tion was foretold by Buddha — this lion of fearlessness and attain-
ment.
An occidental newspaper from India reached us. Bose has
discovered muscles in plants. Of course, if there are nerves, why
not muscles. Bose is demonstrating just that page which is
needed for the coming evolution.
January 6th
Another “wonderful” detail about Khotan. A month ago a
woman servant came to be hired — a strange Moslem woman;
[ 178]
she at once threw back her veil and started vulgarly to smile,
offering her services. The cheeks were rouged. The eyebrows
thick as a finger — in one straight line. One felt something spe-
cially sent, unclean. We refused. She left. To-day an old Chinese
complained about rumors which the Amban spread that he made
dishonorable offers to the washwoman. The old man is again
indignant. At once we remembered the rouged one. Travelers,
be careful! The old man protests: “The Amban himself has
a wine shop in Yarkand. If only we could get soldiers from the
Consul!” If even a Chinese dreams of the Consul’s soldiers one
can imagine his mood.
The characteristics of the fifth Buddha: The North; the bless-
ing of fearlessness; Akochir or Ak Dorje (the crossed Dorje);
the sound A; Tara; Visvapani (the many-armed, all bestowing)
Maitreya.
In his article in the Shanghai Times of 1925, “In the wilder-
ness of Tibet,” Dr. Lao Tsin says, “in one of the sanctuaries I have
seen one of its most remarkable characteristics — the mummified
body of a scientist who, they say, died 350 years ago. Garbed
in the costume of a Tibetan lama, as he was during his life, he
sits in an armchair and appears like a man rather fallen asleep
than dead hundreds of years since. Before him on the table lies
an unfinished manuscript over which he was at work before his
death. The body has turned yellow and dry with time, but as
a whole it has kept incredibly well. Many legends were woven
around these remains of the ancient Tibetan scientist. I was
assured that three times during the period since his death, the
body had changed its original position. And once it disappeared
altogether and came back only after two or three days. Once
the keepers of the temple, coming into the chamber where the
remains were kept, discovered that the manuscript before him
[ 179]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
was completed with a message of the greatest importance for the
whole world.”
Okakura notes: “You can laugh at us having ‘too much tea’
but could we not also suspect you Westerners of the ‘lack of tea’
in your constitution? You have gained an expansion of your
possessions at the price of all calmness. We have created the
harmony without force against any attack. Would you believe
it? The East in certain respects is greater than the West! The
sky of contemporary humanity is broken in the cyclopic fight
for wealth and despotism. The world moves gropingly in the
darkness of egoism and vulgarity. One buys science with a bad
conscience. One manifests good will, out of love for utility.
East and West, like two dragons tossed by the turbulent sea, are
fighting in vain to conquer the precious stone of life. We need
‘Ny-uka’ in order to heal the great disaster. We await the great
Avatar.”
• • • • •
Aurobindo Ghose says, “We say to humanity, ‘The time has
come when you must take the great step and rise out of a
material existence into the higher, deeper and wider life toward
which humanity moves. The problems which have troubled
mankind can only be solved by conquering the kingdom within;
not by harnessing the forces of Nature to the service of com-
fort and luxury, but by mastering the forces of the intellect and
the spirit; by vindicating the freedom of man within as well as
without and by conquering, from within, external Nature.”
Alexandra David-Neel says in her article, “The Coming Hero”:
(“La Vie de Peuple,” 1925, Paris.) “We can smile at these ex-
travagant dreams but in those immense regions where they are
accepted with unshaken belief and with the greatest reverence,
their influence can become powerful and foreshadow completely
[ 180]
KHOTAN
unexpected events which the most skillful of politicians is unable
to foresee.”
Read the story of David-Neel about the old lama who brought
flowers upon the glaciers. Read the tale of the lama about the
coming of the time of Shambhala. From a local story-teller the
lama is transformed into a participant in international events.
David-Neel has brought from Tibet several new variants of the
manuscript about Shambhala.
For a scientist the whole net of prophecies and very significant
indications drawn across the entire immeasurable distances of
Asia, represents a remarkable interest. A poet would say that the
sand and stones were speaking because often the ways of this
speeding information are absolutely undecipherable. And you
need but relate a piece of information when, immediately, one
gives you in reply a still more significant piece of news. And
at this, the half-shut eyes are faintly glistening.
And so we live. Once we receive a piece of information from
the heights, and once from the abyss. To-day a soldier stopped
our Chinese at the bazaar, caught hold of his horse by the
bridle, and demanded money from him. Yesterday one of our
“guards” stopped a woman on the road and tried to demand
money from her. And in such a country they have left us without
arms! It is strange that Prjevalsky also had unpleasant expci i-
ences just in Khotan. Marco Polo condemns the customs of
Khotan. So we sit on our trunks amidst untold infamy. They
brought us information from the bazaar that the Taotai is intro-
ducing the opium trade in Khotan.
• • • • •
January 8th
A number of members of the brotherhood of Buddha spent
their time in quarrels and the Blessed One left them. The neigh-
[ 181 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
boring donors were repelled by the quarreling ones and the latter
were humbled and came to Buddha asking him to forget every-
thing not referring to the causes of quarrels among them. But
Buddha said: “Such reconciliation will not be fundamental. On
the contrary, fearlessly uncover all the roots of the quarrels and
of your animosity. Only then will reconciliation be real.”
Going to Asia do not take much food. Everything is there in
sufficient quantity. Kashmiri agencies know nothing. They
made us carry flour and rice with us. They warned us that there
was no sugar. They made us take forage. However, everything
is there and for the ten days of desert through Karakorum, not
much provision is needed. It only makes the caravan senselessly
long!
• • • • •
January ioth
How is our consciousness enriched by sitting in Khotan? It
becomes clear that a life such as that in Khotan should not
exist. Imagine the lives of 100,000 people plunged into complete
darkness, divested of all light. Out of darkness are being born
disease, vice, lies, treachery and ignorance. The people have
retained only their small trade, achieved by cheating and treach-
ery. The understanding of quality in the products has died out.
The understanding about celerity in work has perished. The
understanding of the victory of labor is demolished. Submersion
in the slush of bazaars and a mutual strangulation goes on. Thus
it cannot continue!
The lama who warned us that “Chinese cannot act differently”
is predicting another occurrence. He says: When they see that
things cannot continue in such insolence and cruelty, they will
assure you that nothing at all happened, that it only appeared
so to us and they were always friends. Note that they transmit
[ 182]
KHOTAN
everything by word of mouth and that the frightened Beks will
deny everything that they have seen and heard. The only
proof is the receipt regarding the seizure of the arms.”
You, builders of New China, remove more quickly the “buf-
falos.” The place for them is the zoo.
Our Khotan friend, Kudai-Berdi-Bai, relates with the humor
of the East, about his visit to a miserly friend: “I come to him
and he sits and washes heaps of silver coins which have become
absolutely black. It appears that he keeps his riches in the
ground and our earth is such that the silver gets absolutely
black. And so I tell him, ‘Dost thou see, even the silver gets
black when it is hidden from people. And thy face will also
get black in the other world, if thou wilt uselessly hide thy
riches.’ ”
This is a tale from the practical East.
Two days away from Khotan, along the Karakash, were re-
cently found great auriferous sands. Thousands of gold seekers
who worked on the stream of the river Keriya left their work
and turned to Karakash. A few more gold-bearing rivers were
mentioned. Of course, all this is exploited by very crude means.
In natural resources Sinkiang is a rich province.
January nth
The sensation of Khotan! Bazaar rumors came, about the
dinner arranged by some official in Kashgar. It is being dis-
cussed at the bazaars in the most fantastic way. The Taotai,
officials, merchants and also many of the poorest inhabitants were
invited to the dinner. The places were so arranged that the Taotai
and the officials were among the most ragged beggars. The same
thing happened with the richest man of the city. The host said:
“Now we are not in office. Here we are all men, are all equals.
[183]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Is it not so? To-morrow you will be the head, Taotai, and to-day
we are equal people.” According to the echoes in Khotan the
impression was very great. So is being related in the bazaar.
One cannot discern where the people’s creation begins.
January 12th
Letters came from America. Through Kuldja from November
5th and through Tashkent from December 1st; almost the same
amount of time as to Ladak from New York. Beloved friends,
we read with joy about all works, exhibitions, lectures, the school,
the propaganda of art among broad masses; because all this
is so imperatively needed. You are bringing true joy into the
life of youth and are kindling the heart-fires.
We heard about some gigantic statues in Central Asia. It is
difficult to know which; maybe these are the celebrated statues
in Bamian, the half-destroyed city between Kabul and Balkh.
The height of one of these is 170 feet. Some consider them
entirely of Buddhist origin. Others see in them the most ancient
antiquity. The same unclearness as about the stone giants on
the Easter Island.
Our Chinese is deeply offended by the officials. He does not
want to go back to China. He hung on the gates some sort of
tremendous vivid notice — black and red. In translation it means:
“The American art officer, Lo, forbids any one to enter into the
court who has no business there.” It appears that “Lo” means
Roerich ! ? ! “Lo” — in Chinese, also means “alarm.”
In Khotan there was a fire during the night. The Sarts inter-
preted it as due to the unworthy conduct of the officials against
the good guests.
[184]
KHOTAN
January iph
A telegram came: “Washington undertakes necessary meas-
ures.” But the arms were all taken away. And without arms
I cannot attempt to sketch in unknown countries. I have a great
deal of experience and reasons for this. Not only people but wild
dogs have taught me this custom. Isn’t it insolent to ignore all
papers and to deprive us of all means of defense? There have
been many cases of oppression of expeditions but such an act
is not known in literature. I am placing the responsibility upon
the government of the Chinese Republic.
January 15th
From America came a telegram so distorted that it was im-
possible to understand the meaning. The unseen friends from
the bazaar brought the news about a big quarrel between the
Taotai and Amban.
And even days of seeming inactivity are full of signs. Here
is a remarkable little casket! There is news about the monastery
near Kuldja! And there is Maitreya! There is information that
often the ruler of a district of China simply doesn’t recognize
the money of his predecessor. And the people do not know
where to keep their money. From everyday life, the discussion
ascends to the problems of the common order of things. There
are periods, called the “balls of events,” when each circumstance
rolls toward one and the same common end. It is now for seven-
teen years that we are watching the manifestations of the hasten-
ing of evolution. Between the tomb of that which passes away
and between the cradle of the future, electrons of untold energy
are gathering new formations. And the painter-hermit of the
mountain abodes is tracing with surety the battle and victory of
Maitreya. Confidently he is tracing the lines and the distinctions
of those approaching ones, and the signs of those passing away!
[185]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
And quietly and indisputably he is signing the dedication:
“Homage to the ruler of the law, to the exalted ruler of the
northern country of Shambhala.” In Burkan Bulat will be the
Temple of Shambhala.
]anuary iyth
The officials are intensifying their criminality. The Amban
started to open packages addressed to us. To-day he opened a
package from the Shanghai bank. We shall say to him, “Do not
forget, Amban, that it is just the Statue of Liberty which opens
the way to the heart of America. Now all Khotan knows that
we have received money. Yet you and the Taotai have deprived
us all of means of self-defense.”
The Amban notifies us that there is an order from Urumchi
to open all letters and to seize our arms. But that instead of
arms, they will give us military escort. I answer him that we
cannot trust their soldiers, because they all run away at the sight
of our one dog. However, three years ago an American expedi-
tion had to defend itself from an attack of a pack of dogs, by
shooting. I point out to the Amban that the arms taken by him
belong to the American institutions but again America is being
completely ignored. I also tell him that his soldiers will end
by shooting each other. The Amban did not have time to reach
the city when, in confirmation of my remarks about the guard,
the secretary came galloping to us, asking help in a serious sur-
gical case. Two of the Taotai’s closest bodyguards shot one
another. Of course we are not surgeons. It appears that the
officer of the Taotai was stealing some things and the other guard
discovered it and, as a result, the two were seriously wounded.
And from these thieves and assassins, the Taotai wishes to pro-
vide our guard. Our old man Ts’ai Han Chen says, “For open-
ing a stranger’s letter in China formerly, one was punished by
having an eye taken out and a hand cut off. But here there are
[ 186 ]
KHOTAN
no officers but robbers.” It will be enlightening to see how we
will find the central power of the province Sinkiang, in Urumchi.
January iSth
The first snow fell. E. I. is feeding the birds. Masses of
speckled little birds surrounded her. Hindus often feed the birds
during the winter months.
January igth
We received a letter from the English Consul in Kashgar.
Apparently they are making efforts to enable us to leave Khotan.
January 20th
There is a letter from the English Consul. He notifies us that
following his efforts and those of the Kashgar Taotai, the Gov-
ernor-General invites us immediately to proceed to Kashgar.
We will see how and when the local “Governors” are going to
notify us.
Toward evening the Amban notifies us briefly through
Khudai-Berdi-Bai that a letter has been received from the Gov-
ernor-General with permission for us to go to Kashgar. Even
the commands of the Governor-General are being transmitted
through the private note of a private man. What an organiza-
tion! At our first meeting I said to the Taotai that Akbar the
Great called travelers the best ambassadors of his kingdom and
always took care to preserve goood relationship with them. I can
say now to the Taotai, “You, Ma-ta-jen, for three months very
actively have created our mood and I did not hide from you
that I would describe all that occurred. Confucius ordained that
according to the committed evil, one must act, in Just measure.
China is a Confucian country and according to Confucius I have
to write on your portrait: Ma-ta-jen, ignorant and cruel savage.”
[187]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
And according to the teaching of Buddha, “ignorance is quali-
fied as the greatest crime.” And the same wise Confucius re-
jected all who rebelled against art and knowledge. However,
we all had approached with a sincere desire to inscribe into our
notes that the powers of China had become more cultured than
during the times of the decline of the empire. And now let us
again piercingly look into the eyes of the new officials. Does
there not hide behind their shoulders an ignorant Ma-ta-jen?
People have started to move. Preparations! Out of all the
trunks, the best are American — Belber. They do not bend on all
passes nor let through any dust. The horse takes easily two
trunks. Rather bad are the Kashmiri ya\tans.
Our Chinese is rejoicing. He apparently feared direct assaults
on the part of the Taotai. Now he recognizes that his following
of “the customs” was superfluous. He made us bring fire-
crackers to the Taotai, the day of the completion of his new
house. He arranged a procession with gifts when he came to
Khotan. Against our wishes he brought cards to the new Amban.
According to the results this was all in vain. He explains, that
these are not officers but bandits, but he also agrees that one
must abandon these customs.
As one might expect from these ignorant officials of Khotan,
now they give us to understand that the command from the
Governor-General came through their efforts. They do not know
that in the letter of the British Consul the order of the receipt
of the command is clearly outlined and they think that we
believe them.
A mafa (a carriage) from Khotan to Kashgar costs twenty-
five sar; a pack horse, six sar. (A sar is about one Mexican dollar.)
[ 188 ]
KHOTAN
From the developed negatives many and necessary ones ap-
peared to be spoiled. Some have lines and black spots. While
still in India they warned us that these so-called tropical films
give bad results. Generally all our regular films turn out. Well,
but tropical films are all cloudy. And often a whole half of
a film or more, is either white or black. Very good are Agfa.
The local bearded men are coming to talk over all sorts of
things. Of course, the true intention is not revealed at once.
Of course, they wish to hear about the new customs. They
think that these customs could be good. They think that all
men must labor. All is well and the tea is being consumed in
full accord. But suddenly one drags from out his bosom a num-
ber of a London newspaper with a reprint of a drawing from
a Moscow magazine, Bezbojni\. Allah also received his un-
lucky share there. The bearded one “naively” inquires, “But this
seems to be Allah?” Of course it is evident and he concludes
sourly: “We do not touch their Lenin. Then why do they offend
our Allah? And then, do they know the whole Koran? Let
them not offend us Moslems. We are many.” The bearded ones
sourly departed. . . .
In Cairo, near Napoleon’s cannon-balls which stuck out in
the walls of the Mosque, I asked the guide: “Why do you not
remove these traces of war?” He answered: “We shall guard
these marks of western sentiments.”
A representative of Japanese newspapers was asked, “Is cor-
poral punishment of children permitted in Japan?” As befits a
great country, the answer was in the negative. Really, are many
of the attacks on Japan just? The courage and honor of the
Samurai, the warriors; the heroism and self-sacrifice of the
women; the intensified labor of workmen and husbandmen give
[ 189]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
undeniable charm to Nippon. I never had any collisions with
Japanese. On the contrary, there appeared sensitive Japanese
friends. I recall my articles, long since, about Japan. I shall
not refute them, but I even will reaffirm much of what was told.
Eliseeff, in Paris, spoke about the methods of teaching in Japanese
monasteries. It is very remarkable: Sudden questions and the
demand that the answer should not contain the least intrusion of
the personal. As in life, appear the episodes of the Japanese
drama: The assassins are stealthily creeping to kill the crown
prince. In the helplessness of the moment, the nurse exchanges
him for her child. Shockingly subtle is the expression of her
cold official mourning over the supposed prince when her
mother’s heart is torn with sorrow.
Tao-Te-Ching points out: “A sage places his personality in the
last plan but nevertheless it appears on the first place. He
considers his personality as if detached from him, and neverthe-
less his personality is preserved. Is it not because of this, that
his ends are realized? Because he has no personal and private
ends. He is free from self-exposition and therefore he gives
light. He is free from self-affirmation and therefore is being dis-
tinguished. He is free from self-pride and therefore his merits
are acknowledged. He is free from self-satisfaction and there-
fore he enjoys superiority. And because of that he is to such
an extent free from any competition. No one in the world can
compete with him. He who possesses the qualities of Tao is
like a child — the venomous insects will not sting him; wild ani-
mals will not attack him, birds of prey will not strike him!”
Buddha ordains: “By introspection, by virtue and purity a wise
man creates of himself an island which cannot be submerged by
any floods” (Udanavarga).
[190]
KHOTAN
January 2 yd
Our Chinese and lama apparently know well a certain type
of Chinese official. Everything happens according to their
“prophecies.” The officials repeatedly assure us of their friend-
ship and put the blame for everything that happened on the
Governor-General of the Sinkiang province. Now the officials
have the problem, on what pretext to return our seized arms in
order to restore everything to an elusive oral condition and to say:
“All that occurred was the fantasy of travelers.” For three
months we passed through a wonderful schooling; something
of the course experienced by us nevertheless remains unclear.
For instance, why did the officials in every way prevent us from
communicating with America and why did they return us the
telegrams undispatched? Whereas, it is known to everybody
that through Kashgar and the English Consulate one can always
communicate. The local people at once warned us not to believe
the officials. And to our questions as to why, since we did noth-
ing wrong, the local bearded one repeated, “Because they are
fools.” But also in the actions of hopeless fools there is some
sort of even distorted sense. It means, therefore, that here is
concealed not only stupidity but even criminality.
A telegram came from New York: “American minister is
acting.”
Let us finish by a page of that China which we did not see:
“Finally the yellow ruler, son of heaven, conquered the demon
of earth and darkness. But the giant in his agony knocked with
his head the solar arch and broke into fragments the cupola of
blue jade. The stars lost their nests and the moon wandered
without aim amidst the scattered fragments of night. In despair
the ruler searched everywhere to find who could restore the
heavens. He did not search in vain. From the eastern sea arose
[ 191 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
the ruleress, the heavenly Ny-uka, shining in her armor of flames.
She forged the five colors of the rainbow in her magic forge
and restored the heavens.”
Let us not forget the colorful pollen of Japan which we did
not yet see. “Komio, the regent of Nara, sang, ‘If I shall pluck
thee, my hand will defile thee, oh flower. Thus as I see thee
on the bosom of the meadow, so I dedicate thee to the Buddhas
of the past, present and future.’ ”
And again a page from the true East apostrophizes the Mother
of the World: “Thou, Who hast covered Thy Face! Thou, Who
hast woven the texture of the far-off worlds, Messenger of the
Untold ! Ruler of the Elusive ! Bestower of the Unrepeatable.
“By Thy command the ocean becomes silent and the whirl-
winds trace the outlines of invisible signs. . . . And She who
covered her face will stand on guard alone in the glory of the
signs. And none will ascend to the summit, none will per-
ceive the glory of the twelve-signed symbol of her power. From
the spirals of light she herself has woven the sign in silence. She
is the Leader of those who go toward attainment. Four corners,
the sign of affirmation, are manifested by her as a benediction
to those who have made their decision. . . .
“A silent command, all-penetrating, unchangeable, indivisible,
irrefutable, blinding, generous, indescribable, unrepeatable, un-
harmed, unpronounced, timeless, undelayable — the lightning
manifested in the lightning!”
[ 192]
Part VIII
TAKLA MAKAN— KARASHAHR
(1926)
January 2 yth
Timur Bey is our new caravaneer. Wherever you look, there
are some historical names; all are Shahs, Sultans, Beys. Even the
most insignificant one appropriates to himself the title Akhun.
He comes to weigh our things. The arrangement of the scale
transports one into the Neolithic Age. On a beam hangs a stick
with some “magic” circles and signs. A massive green piece of
jade on a little string slides along as a counterbalance for the
trunk and “the magi” in a round little cap proclaims the number
seen by him alone. Truly we found such stones with holes from
the Neolithic Age and we called them grusily, plumb-lines; but
more correctly, these are weights.
We must go eastward and that is why to-morrow we go toward
the west! The stops on the way to Kashgar are: 1. Zawa;
2. Pialma; 3. Zangu Chuda; 4. Guma bazaar; 5. Cholak; 6. Ak-
kim; 7. Karghalik; 8. Posgam; 9. Yarkand; 10. Kokrabat; n.
Kizil; 12. Yangi Hissar; 13. Yaberchat; 14. Kashgar.
Our friends, the Kalmucks, passed us yesterday on the shortest
way to Aksu and Karashahr. In the darkness of dawn, past our
gates, rang the low-toned bells of their camels. They carried
rugs from Khotan to Toin Lama. With them they also carried
many valuable messages which can be appreciated by the Bud-
dhist consciousness.
Again in our caravan there will be three currents: Buddhist,
Moslem, Chinese. The last one is the weakest. The last inven-
[ 193 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
tion of Ts’ai Han Chen — the banner of the expedition with the
big inscription “Lo” (Roerich) which also means “Alarm,” is put
on a vivid red staff. Ts’ai Hang Chen took our cards to the
officials and, as we expected, the rogues, Taotai and Amban,
assured us that they had greatly helped us.
The mafas came for the lama and Ts’ai Han Chen. It is
evident that these carriages have not changed since the fifteenth
century. They would be good for any museum. Kudai-Berdi-
Bai brought a dastarhjian in the shape of roasted mutton and
pastry. Incidentally, the Chinese colonel also realized that some-
thing unfortunate had happened. Again loads; again woolly
caps; again the ferocious roar of Tumbal. In the morning we
started on the road. For the last time the little birds of Khotan
came flying to us. And sheep came. Tumbal, like a black
statue, became seemingly transfixed on the pile of baggage.
January 2 8th
From seven o’clock in the morning we collected the caravan.
We saw the type of work of Ladakis — swift, energetic. Worse
is that of the Dardistans and Kashmiris. Good is the work of
Nepalese, but worst of all, that of Khotanese. Such laziness and
incapacity is hard to imagine. From seven to twelve they loaded
forty horses with effort. We went through Khotan; again we
were convinced that whatever bears the marks of old Khotan
is not so bad and shows remnants of carving, of some ornamenta-
tion and proportion. But everything new has become a sense-
less heap of clay and pitiful stakes. At the bazaar you some-
times see faces, not wicked, but depressed and void of any ex-
pression.
It is clear that places like Khotan have exhausted their old
sap and can be rejuvenated only by a radical reconstruction.
The Chinese sit behind the clay walls of the Chinese city. They
show no desire to cooperate with the population. They remain
[ 194]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
accidental newcomers, and do not think of making any improve-
ments to help. Life has become dusty and brains have become
dusty. A flash of vigorous lightning is needed.
From afar appears the silhouette of light gray Kwen lun. It
grieves one to depart from this remarkable range — it grieves one
to realize that the Himalayas are again receding.
Again we have a guard of five soldiers. It is not known
whether we are guarding them or whether they are guarding
us. Karakash darya is frozen and the horses break through the
thin ice. The morning is cold but by midday the sun is already
burning. Buds are on the branches. Beside the road perch gray-
crested larks. We passed nine wayside towers. Again Zawa.
Ts’ai Han Chen says smiling, with a toothless mouth, “The Taotai
of Khotan thinks that we will return again to Khotan. Such a
stupid official!”
But now all thoughts of stupid officials are far from us because
we are again in the desert. Again the purple of the evening
sands; again bonfires. The caravan with our belongings is much
delayed, and we wait quite at ease as though these things which
so much complicate life do not exist. On the sands are many-
colored feltings. The gay tongues of flame, fiery and courageous,
whirl out toward the endless long evening clouds. In the eve-
ning, in Zawa, it was apparent that the bek and officer who were
stationed with us smoked opium. George asked Ts’ai Han Chen
to reprimand them. He said, “Of course, it is very bad, but to
the chief protector of opium a statue is erected.” And the light
of the moon and the silence of the night were again permeated
with human poison. . . .
January 29th
Before dawn we ourselves had again to arouse the whole cara-
van. Timur Bey went away somewhere and proved himself a
sluggard. I began to call alongside the tents in Tibetan, “Long,
[ 195]
long, long” — as the Tibetans cry early in the morning, rousing
the people. On the hillock, a man with a big horn came out
and began to blow a sustained note in all directions. It seems
that it is the miller notifying the peasants that he is ready to
grind grain. Again the desert. Again a mazar with doves. But
now the traces of light snow are everywhere. The silvery tones
have become more severe. The snowy mountains toward the
left become more ethereal and more varied. But the sands are
as wearisome as before. We have seldom become so tired. In
the twilight — the message from the desert from the back of an
unknown camel: “In Pialma the water has dried up.” Well, we
shall go somehow. At eight o’clock, in the darkness, under a
dull moon, we enter Pialma. Here, awaiting us is the Swedish
missionary, Nystrom (in Chinese, Liseti). According to his tales,
he had many such cases as ours with the Chinese officials. The
same hypocritical instability and insolent changing of decisions.
a • • • •
January goth
The fog descends. Around us is the bluish-white fog and the
circular plateau of the sands. Sometimes the sands assume a
sculptural character or resemble the shell of a pearl. But still
to-day we are going along a very flat plateau with rare low
bur\hans, thin abrupt little bushes. Half-covered, lies the skele-
ton of a donkey. Here, half-ruined towers — potais — stick out.
Each one of them ten li apart. One can easily cross a potai
in forty minutes. The waves of the sand merge into an even
line on the horizon. What could disturb the monotony of this
plateau ?
In the desert of Khotan, a rumor reached us about the well-
known traveler, Kosloff. They say that when Kosloff was in
Karashahr, there was a “horrible dragon” living there, but the
courageous Russian bogatyr conquered the dangerous dragon,
conjured him, and sealed him in a glass jar. By this act the
[ 196]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
whole district was saved. They speak of the buried cities and
they point with their hands toward Takla-Makan. A sort of
reverence and superstitious fear resound as they pronounce the
name of the great desert. In this direction are spread two narrow
files of caravans. They go from Pialma for fuel. And here is
nothing else. And no sounds. And no colors. And the pearly
dust winds into a blue curtain. Like ancient catafalques the
mafas proceed rhythmically and the purple wheels slowly turn.
The red cloak of the Chinese officer shows flame-colored. As
protection from the wind he has donned the most amazing yellow
cape with the longest red cloak. Whence this invention? In it
are buried some thousands of years.
To the left the file of a caravan departs. Where to? This is
the direction straight to Tibet, to Chang-thang. Yes, so it is,
they go to the Tibetan lakes for salt. And here is another mem-
orable meeting! From afar, is silhouetted a small man. He
walks boldly. His gait is not that of a Sart; and a Chinese does
not go solitary through the desert. A cap with ear-laps. A gray
cloak. Yes, it is a Ladaki. They will go anywhere, all alone
in the desert. We meet. He shows all his teeth, and they start
to gleam, and he stretches out his hand. “Djuli, Djuli,” he greets.
And he is attracted toward us. We find mutual acquaintances.
We tell him whither each one went. One to Chang-thang;
another through Kokyar; another was freezing in Sanju. And
what is it that brings us so close to the Ladakis? Wherefore
this common tongue? Wherefrom, this united valiant step?
Wherefrom the courage of lonely marches ? We wanted to keep
this passing friend with us.
January 31st
After the wind and fog the vivid morning glows radiantly.
We go as far as Chuda; the people ask us to defer the pass to
Guma for two days. We shall do this. The Chinese department
[ i97]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
of the caravan disintegrated first. On the fourth day Ts’ai Han
Chen already had the appearance of a corpse. Tang-ke-chang col-
lapsed and even remained somewhere on the road. Sung lost
his gloves and became irritated. The Chinese soldier lost his
horse. Altogether it was again apparent to us, that, for a march,
the Chinese are absolutely unfit. Ts’ai Han Chen excellently
mounted butterflies. Chang was carefully preoccupied beside
his bed because a proper Chinese bed has to look like a moun-
tain. Sung boldly attacked the Sarts. The soldiers and officers
in caps resembled anything except warriors. And the guns with
their muzzles hermetically stuffed-up and with the triggers bound
up are transformed from an active apparatus into a symbol. It
is true there are no robbers here, but in any case this entire troop
would run at sight of the first organized column.
Again we find the bluish-white spots of snow. From the north
side of each bar\han is hidden some such light, fragrant spot.
Assuredly the snow gives to the ground an especial fragrance.
One cannot believe that to-day is the last day of January — it is
spring. The Turkis are working better to-day, and for this they
receive a sheep. Poor ones — they appreciate every token. Ap-
parently the proprietor of the caravan is pressing them. And
what kind of a “ladder of octopi” is this ? Gegen is again angry
at the Chinese.
It is pleasant to come to the encampment before dark. Yes, yes,
verily, it is spring. I have been painting.
February ist
Guma Bazaar. We marched through some fantastic sand
formations. At times it seemed as though these were remains
of stupas or towers. There is more snow. The white slopes give
the impression of shores and between them it seems as though
there were a sea. So convincing is the impression of the sea
[198]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
that one has to remind one’s self that in the desert there are
no such water surfaces.
Again is “prepared” for us a dusty garden; again beks and
soldiers. We had hardly succeeded in spreading our tents before
the Amban came. Our impression of him is better than that of
the one in Khotan. The Amban knows about our Khotan
troubles. He is indignant at the Khotan officials. He wonders
how one can prohibit a painter from working and confirms the
fact that the road to Tun-huang through the desert is very diffi-
cult. And for the “T’ai-T’ai” * it would be impossible to go on
such a road for two months. The conversation turns to childish
themes: In Guma it is very hot in summer; it is hotter than in
Kansu. In Urumchi it is now very cold; it is impossible to sit
outdoors as we do here. In Guma the horses are not good but in
Kashgar there are tall horses and the best pacing horses are in
Karashahr. All this we also knew without him. With the
Amban is his nine-year-old son. Afterward they put father and
son into a vividly-colored two-wheeled conveyance — mafa — and
all go away. And George has again to go on horseback to pay
his return visit. There is a crowd at the gates. Above the clay
walls a mass of heads in woolly caps peer out. The soldiers are
noisily whipping the uninvited spectators. To-morrow we shall
stop in Selyak instead of Cholak. In Cholak all the water has
dried up.
The evening ends with Chinese dances. A procession with
paper lanterns arrives. Before the gates of the garden, a close
circle is formed and they begin to dance. First, an old man, a
young woman and a camel. The young woman runs away from
the old man; he catches her and the camel decoratively shakes
his woolly neck.
Then the dance of the ship accompanied by a song. In a red
paper boat swings “the beauty,” and the boatman, in a role like
* T’ai-T’ai— lady.
[ 199]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Charon, is rowing at the bow of the boat. Afterwards dragons
and horsemen on paper horses. They sing: “As in the heaven are
being born the stars, so from the earth, are emerging the waters.”
It is not subtle but there is nothing common or insolent about
it. Voices of grown-ups mingle with clear young voices. The
darkness of the night is filled with the movements of a simple
and not unruly crowd.
February 2nd
A wintry white desert. The torrents are frozen. A flat plain
abruptly commences after Guma Bazaar. On the horizon are
low snowy hills. On account of the water we had to stop in
Selyak at one o’clock in the afternoon. We have not yet had
such short crossings as these. Selyak is a simple clay serai for
caravans, with a few gnarled trees amidst the silent desert. A
gray sky. An eastern wind. Some camels, half a dozen dogs and
the frightened children of the proprietor. Nothing else. And
here strange information reaches us about Khotan. Karken Bey
— alias Moldavak — who looked so remarkably like a European,
proclaimed himself a Persian citizen, but proved to be a director
of the Ottoman bank and a Catholic. This is, verily, a strange
combination. In his workshop they are imitating carpets, follow-
ing the ones found in the editions of the British Museum. With
what firm in London or Paris is he connected? And in what
antique shops does one encounter his imitations?
At the bazaar in Guma the women lifted back their veils
from their faces in order to see us better. The veil, thrown
back, is put together like a \o\oshni\ (Slavonic headgear).
Probably the form of some \o\oshni\s developed from the raised
veil. The bek in Guma is an absolute “Sadko” and he does not
even have to use make-up. For all the operas of Rimsky-Korsa-
koff there are characters ready made.
In the road the soldiers are telling our T’sai Han Chen the
[ 200 ]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
reason why their horses are so poor. “The officials bill the gov-
ernment twenty-five or thirty sars, but they themselves pay fifteen
or ten.” They all are speaking about the murder of the Kashgar
Titai by the Taotai of Khotan. Somehow the murderer hastened
to put an end to the arrested one, without the trial of the Gov-
ernor-General. Everywhere are mercenary motives of some kind.
We had to leave Chang in Guma. He collapsed completely —
an example of the destructive effect of opium. As soon as the
smoker, from out his smoky den, comes into vigorous conditions
of nature, he falls apart like a card house.
The water in Selyak is like weak coffee. The tea turns out to
be ugly looking and unsavory. Again we are setting up the tents.
Not far off is a lonely tomb with two animal tails on the bent
stakes. I have been painting.
We are reading Vladimirtzeff’s description of the life of Jenghis
Khan. A fine, vital savant is Vladimirtzeff. Recently he has
published several books and all of such virile content! And so
needed for the time ! It is a pity that Rudnief is silent. One ought
to translate the description of the life of Jenghis Khan for Amer-
ica. This enterprising fundamental spirit will be valued there.
February yd
During the night the caravans pass by — the bells of the camels
ring out as a complete orchestra. Finally one caravan walks
against our tent and almost crushes it. From morning on there
is a wind. The desert is completely white. The winter has
started and through the entire long crossing we go as in the far
north. We pass an old langar with the ruins of towers. The
low trees stand out in silhouette and we can see Ak-kem — a small
village with a few little huts. Our caravan is very much delayed
and we sit and wait once more.
Again endless tales about the cowardice of the Chinese colonel
T’ung-ling); about the treachery of Taotai; about the stupidity
[201 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
of the Amban. Never and nowhere before have we heard such
unanimous condemnation of the officials. It is even boring to set
it down; it cannot continue like this; new China will have com-
pletely to change the character of its officials. Sung fell twice
from the horse. The Chinese department of the caravan is com-
pletely without luck. E. I. has been trotting on her horse from
eight to four. This is astonishing. In some former time she
must have been a rider.
From somewhere they are bringing very beautiful feltings, as
coverings for the floor. In Khotan we saw none like these. A
complicated mosaic design. Better than the carpets. Truly,
koshmas and chintzes are the best of the local industries. The
designs of the chintzes are the same as in Russia in the seventeenth
century or earlier. I have been painting.
February 4th
From Ak-kem to Karghalik is a short but a cold crossing along
the snowy desert. They say that in a day the snow will again
disappear. Somehow the strip from Selyak to Karghalik is
always exceptionally snowy. Maybe it is the influence of some
range of mountains — other reasons are not apparent. The other
peculiarity of the local places is that silver and even gold become
absolutely black; probably the consistency of the soil contributes
to this. Gradually along the extended outskirts we enter the
Karghalik Bazaar. Alas! By its severe smell it recalls ill-smelling
Srinagar. We ask why it is so dirty here, worse than in Guma.
The customary reply: “Amban pu hao.” That means a “mean
Amban.”
We receive quarters in the very bazaar itself amidst unbeliev-
able dirt. We had to resign ourselves to our operetta escort, the
beks, and look for a garden outside the city. We found a soli-
tary house with a garden. To-morrow, the gloomy possessions
of the Khotan Taotai end. Will it be better? One thing this
[ 202 ]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
criminal could not spoil: he could not contaminate the air of the
desert. A wonderful prelude to spring. The air is brisk.
The day ends again with dances. The dragon and the boat are
seen again. But best of all is the dance on stilts. The natural
artists reveal themselves. The same Russian dance concerning a
young man’s courtship of a maiden is accompanied by strings
resembling the balalaika. DiaghilefT and Bolm could find sugges-
tions for their compositions. And the servants in red with paper
lanterns are not bad. This little fragment of creation for a
minute lit up the deadness of the desert.
Here are less goiters. Give to this people at least a small win-
dow of light and the vehement fire of the hearts will flare up.
a • • • •
February yth
Karghalik said farewell poorly. The beks, stationed with us,
appeared to be idiots. We could not get any horses; finally
one bek appeared on a wild colt which kicked Olla — the horse
of E. I. The blow fell just on the leg of E. I. But happily it
was softened by the Gilgit soft boots. And, truly, why should
they force upon us these beks and soldiers? Besides discomfort
and expense they do not contribute anything. Yesterday a
Chinese came to be hired as a servant. As it happened, he re-
mained in Karghalik after the murder of the Amban by the
soldiers — many murders. We ask our Tsung why even the beks
in Karghalik are bad. The stereotyped answer: “Amban is
mean.” (They pronounce it here not Amban but Ambal.)
The snow stopped at once beyond Karghalik. Apparently the
snowy expanse ended; but then the white salt marshes started.
We passed two bazaars. We passed wretched mosques and ceme-
teries and we entered the long Posgam bazaar. We do not stay
in the tents but in the house of the elder, a big house with dark
little rooms. Again many-colored feltings are on the floor; the
table and armchairs are even upholstered with leather. Of
T 203]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
course this house was pointed out to us by an incidental Pun-
jabian from the bazaar because all the beks only hindered us
from moving. When will these hopelessly monotonous habita-
tions end, deprived of color and deteriorating in filth and
wilderness? We have just passed a forge. Of course it would
be wonderful for the details of a setting of the Nieblungen, but
as an agricultural instrument it cannot be of any worth. In the
little holes are half-naked men and children blowing into toy-
like bellows. Take away the excitement of the caravan and every-
thing will sink into a complete paralysis.
February 6th
Almost the entire crossing to Yarkand is amidst the peaceful
borders of oases. For a moment the rumbling surface of Yarkand
darya glimmered. For a moment the colorful crossing on rafts
amidst the icy shores flashed out, amidst the gathering of horses,
camels, mules and mafas; and afterward the mazars and clay
huts. And the heavy-topped trunks of the willows beside the
road. Thus up to Yarkand itself, up to the clay walls. Again
a house is prepared for us, in the bazaar itself; but there appears
a deliverer in the shape of a Ladaki Aksakal. They lead us
out of town and in a quiet garden we find a white house with
quarters for our men, with red carpets and, most important,
with the Lhasa language of the Aksakal himself. From Posgam
our farewell was the salutation of the Punjabi — “Urus Kharosh.”
And here is the familiar Tibetan language. We visit the Swedish
missionaries. We cure our old man, the Chinese; we listen again
to different tales of the local customs; how Chinese officials are
driving the population toward complete ruin, after which they
easily govern the pauperized pariahs. A letter came from the
English Consul. He invites us to stop with him. The local
Asiatic bank also offers three rooms in Kashgar.
[204]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
'February yth
A day in Yarkand. Our people are eating mutton. Silence.
A strange thing; absolutely all beg to continue with us. Even the
Chinese soldiers of the escort say they would joyfully go further
with us. A Ghinese captain entered our service as a sweeper; also
an officer, an Armenian, the major-domo of the former Amban;
they all beg us; so that until we reach Urumchi we shall go in a
strange international combination. We paid a visit to the local
Amban. He makes a better impression than the Khotan
“rulers.”
When our Ts’ai Han Chen began to relate the circumstances
of our Khotan captivity, the Amban became sincerely indignant.
But the most remarkable thing is that, according to the words of
the Amban, letters from Peking about our passage were received
everywhere with requests to help us along. The Amban is indig-
nant. How did the Khotan people dare to disregard the order
from Peking?
Again we pass through bazaars as in Khotan. A slight varia-
tion: On the doorways of the yamen, instead of a catlike dragon,
there are pictures of a series of warriors with swords. At three
o’clock the soldiers and the beks come to us and, preceded by a
red umbrella, arrives the Amban himself. Then follows a
peaceful tea-party. The Amban apologizes that he could not
arrange a good lunch because of our hasty departure. After
many agreeable compliments, we part. A Chinese doctor comes
for Ts’ai Han Chen. The sentries stand in black turbans.
Chinese theater follows. They are trying out the horses. A
peaceful medieval nonsense as in the paintings of Vinckboons.
From somewhere rumors creep into Yarkand about some events
in China; about the movements of Feng, about the closing of
banks in Peking; about the actions of the old dynasty! But
no one knows anything and one cannot understand a thing.
[205]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
February 8th
Buddha was opposed to prisons. He demanded labor and
intensive work. In Darjeeling not long ago there was an inter-
esting case. In a crowd an old lama was arrested. He did not
try to vindicate himself and was put into prison. Then came
the time to liberate him but the prisoner would not come out.
He said that never and nowhere did he have such a quiet place,
where there was no noise, where they fed one and did not
disturb his meditation. With difficulty they persuaded the old
man to leave the prison.
The lama says: “Do not beat people but let them justly work
out their penalty.” This remark is provoked on seeing that the
beks are striking people and are planting furrows of hatred,
protests and humiliation.
At the time of our departure we do not escape a fray. Yarkand
itself makes a much better impression than Khotan; it is bigger
in size and more varied in its trade; and even the clay towers
and walls give a certain decorative impression. And there,
beyond the tops of the trees, appear the mountains — the ridge of
Kashgar, which does not leave our left the whole way. And
everything becomes beautified; and tiny ice-covered lakes and
blue rivers and brown hillocks appear against a blue background
of rocky mountains. We love the mountains so much! Our
own planet would be very mountainous!
Again trouble with the Chinese. It appeared that Ts’ai Han
Chen has started to smoke opium and has begun to demoralize
the rest of the caravan. We shall have to use severe measures.
We are standing behind the boundary of a little village, Kokrabat.
It will be announced that every one that smokes opium will be
discharged immediately.
• • • * •
February gth
Again the mazars, the graves with banners. Little mosques
[ 206 ]
TAKLA MAKAN— KAR ASH AHR
for the Namaz. How much more touching is the Namaz in the
desert on a little rug before the face of heaven, than the Namaz
before a barren clay wall. Very humble, these by-way clay
mosques, with crooked walls and toylike turrets. Where did
the creativeness of this country disappear to? For the whole
time we have seen only one filigree earring, not bad, and a
couple of silver buttons. In the sun, women on donkeys with
bright green and scarlet che\mens, are gracefully riding by.
It seems as though there are fewer goiters here than in Khotan.
It is an interesting problem to investigate the cause of that mon-
strous growth of the thyroid gland. Aside from the quality of
the water there must be other reasons.
A man rides past us with a falcon in his hands. The falcon
hunt is still the favorite sport here. We are followed by flocks
of meddling crows and ravens. We remember how in Mon-
golia you sometimes have to shoot them to rid yourself of the
innumerable flocks of crows that attack the horses. We are going
along the Kara-kum sands — meaning the black sands. A layer
of chipped stones and pebbles gives a grayish pearly surface to
the desert. At the left the masses of mountains continue. It is
strange to think that beyond these mountains is already Russian
Turkestan, and that these ranges end in the heights of Pamir.
It is the first day, after three months, when the desert is really
beautiful, colorful and varied. And the blue sky adorns itself
with an especially subtle design of feathery white cloudlets. Upon
the crests of the mountains the snow glitters. The pink foot-
hills disappear into a blue mist out of which emerges the outline
of the ridges. A bright day.
The men are anticipating the visit to Kashgar. Everything
that is good in Kashgar is called foreign. The good houses
are foreign. The good boots are foreign. The good horses are
foreign. The good carts are foreign. We are passing two
or three abandoned langars — inns. And in clouds of darken-
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ing dust we enter Kizil where we will camp. The crossing
is considered a long one but we already have arrived at
two-thirty. Kizil is a strange, half-abandoned place with silent
clay squares of huts. A big old Moslem cemetery. From afar
it looks like a whole big city of red clay. The holes of the old
graves are black. The people complain about Ts’ai Han Chen.
The old man smoked opium the whole night. We decided
to let him go as soon as possible. We cannot retain in the
caravan such an unpleasant example; Sung holds out better than
the rest of the Chinese. He does not smoke and shows resource-
fulness. We asked him why the little finger on his left hand
was amputated. It appears he was a terrible gambler who lost
everything, became poor, and in order to pay his debts, he him-
self cut off his little linger, and thus we have one gambler, one
officer of the murdered Amban, one from the caravan of the
murdered American, Langdon; one a confirmed smoker of
opium — quite a variety.
Our Ladaki, Ramsana, adorned himself to such an extent that
he even pinned to his chest two buckles from a garter. But
the greatest desire of Ramsana is to carry a gun, and ride a
good horse. He is eighteen years old and a useful man can
be made out of him. His father is a Moslem and his mother a
Buddhist. By some kind of marks the lamas recognized in him
the reincarnated dead abbot of the monastery, but his father,
a confirmed Moslem, interfered with his monastic career.
• • • •
February ioth
Mist; the north wind and dense clouds of mist. For long
we journeyed through sandy corridors and deep creeks. For a
long time we have not seen such an amount of all-pervading sand.
Then gray salt marshes appeared and low hillocks of a bluish-
brown tone. It became more beautiful, and when we approached
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Kingul darya with high shores, with a frozen high hanging
bridge, with dams and with a cluster of houses and walls, it
became quite lovely. Such landscapes one finds on old Chinese
drawings. We entered into the long bazaar of Yangi Hissar.
A house was prepared in the bazaar and as usual it was not good.
We stopped in the Swedish Mission. The conversation was
about Stockholm, about the curing of goiter with iodine and
the movement of Feng toward Sinkiang.
They say that behind the grave of Mohammed there is an
empty grave prepared for Jesus, in the time of his second
coming. In Ispahan, in Persia, they keep a saddled white horse
ready for the coming of the Messiah. Every one in his own way.
Just now the Hindu merchants came to give us their “salaam”
and to greet us upon our arrival. They show us photographs
of the crucified Titai and of his murdered son. They recount
the medieval details of this murder, without trial. In general
the stories of Khotan coincide except for the details of the be-
heading. Here they say that the crucified ruler remained on
the cross for two days, and that then his body was thrown out
somewhere. And now the mazar (the grave) built by the ruler
stands empty. In the papers little was described of this tragedy
of crucifixion. Here continue crucifixions and treachery, the sale
of people and generous remuneration for murderers. The hasten-
ing of evolution is necessary.
They say that near Kashgar are the ruins of a Buddhist temple.
So it must be, because in these regions Buddhism existed ; but it is
interesting that we did not happen to hear previously about these
ruins. That means that in Kashgar there are mosques and the
mazar of Miriam and the ruins of Buddhism!
The evening is spent with the Swedish folk. A quiet supper.
We hear tales about the richness of this country where not more
than three per cent of the area is cultivated. In the near-by
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mountains iron, copper, silver and coal are found. The mur-
dered Titai intended to start certain developments, but now
these possibilities have again been sunken in darkness.
February nth
We bid farewell to the hospitable family of Anderson. The
seven-month-old Sven stared with his blue eyes at E. I., caught
her finger tightly and did not want to let her go. We spoke about
the fertility of the district where, besides varied vegetables, many
curative herbs: ricinus, licorice, digitalis and others, are growing
wild. One can imagine how the plain would develop under
the tractors of Ford. They speak about the absence of forests
in these localities; but two days’ march away (and the crossings
are short) there is a wonderful store of coal. We take with us
a piece of this product which does not fall below the best samples.
And may it not be that here in the neighborhood there is oil?
Or that there is radium in the mountains? At that, how easy
it is to plant whole spaces with trees. While excavating, great
stumps have often been found in these places as well as the
trunks of former forests. It is only necessary to apply the least
diligence and resourcefulness and the district will become unrec-
ognizable. There is plenty of water during the summer; one
has only to collect it in reservoirs. Now in February the days
are just like spring. Only December and January are cold. The
cold air of the night is of a refreshing nature. If the Chinese
would only not fear everything new and if their officials were
chosen according to merit and not according to their capacity for
robbing! Otherwise, whence this incomprehensibly speedy en-
richment of the Ambans and Taotais? By such means every
manifestation of assiduity is only for the ends of the most speedy
enrichment of the officials, immersed in opium and gambling.
We stopped in Yaberchat, a small place four hours from Kashgar.
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We could easily have made the route to Kashgar in one day,
but on account of the pack horses we had to stay in the outskirts,
among heavy-topped willows and clay walls.
February 12th
Mist, low brush, naked willows and a bumpy road, with cross-
ings over ice-covered streams. First we pass the new city of
Kashgar. The walls are more imposing than the Yarkand walls.
There is more verve and motion in the bazaar. Prisoners in
chains are begging alms for their food. Between the new and
the old city is a distance of about two p’o-t’ai. Toward us ride
two “vividly red Chaprassi” from the English Consul. The
Consul awaits us for breakfast while the house of the local bank
is being made ready. The British Consul and his wife inquire
sympathetically about the affairs at Khotan. In the bank they
speak “about the character” of the Chinese administration. It
seems that the Khotan Taotai is known in the whole province
and nobody is astonished at his action. The caravan arrives.
The things are brought in.
February 13th
The Chinese New Year! At four o’clock in the morning we
are awakened by the noise of firecrackers and rockets. Behind
the wall is a pillar of flame and shots are heard. We thought
it was a fire. Major Gillan, the British Consul, and his wife
came. It appears that they are both Scotch. Among the Scotch
we long ago found sympathetic people, and these belong to a
fine type of Scotch clans. The Ladaki Aksakal comes. He is
a Moslem who lived for a long time in Lhasa and Shigatse. The
translator of the consulate comes. He complains of the increase
of smoking of opium and hemp hashish. The rich permit them-
selves the luxury of using expensive opium, and the poor ones
dope themselves with homemade hashish. The possibility of
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earning a livelihood is very poor here. Formerly about thirty
thousand people went each year to other countries for their
living.
And again endless tales about the enrichment of Chinese of-
ficials by pillage. When you are seated in a peaceful Chinese
restaurant in America, remember about the robbers — the Taotais
and Ambans — who are keeping the people in complete torpor.
Let the sight-seeing motors to Chinatown remind you how mil-
lions of people are perishing in the darkness of ignorance.
The director of the branch of the local bank, A., comes. A
new wave of information. Each part of the province has its own
money, which is accepted with reluctance in the neighboring
provinces. In Kashgar are sars; in Urumchi, Ians, which have
the value of one-third of a sar; in Kuldja, they have their own
Ians, which the population calls roubles. At that, half or a
quarter of a lan is obtained by tearing the bill into correspond-
ing parts. As a result of such operations the monetary symbols
are turned into tatters, deprived of any designation. But when
it is necessary to give the symbol its former value, one pastes
under it some pieces of any kind of paper. One may receive
Ians of which one-half consists of an advertisement of a sale of
soap or something as unexpected.
We see the Swedish missionary, Palmberg. In spite of the
medical activity of the Swedish Missions, they are periodically
subject to persecution on the part of the officials. Recently they
even had temporarily to discontinue the work, and yet they are
the only doctors in the whole large district. Not even at the
garrison is there a doctor. The local inhabitants tell us that
nowhere in the world do people know what is occurring in
abandoned Chinese Turkestan, left as it is to the plunder of a
handful of ignoramuses. They beseech us: “Write and tell to
the world about the deterioration of an entire country into a
savage state.” Again prisoners in chains are passing, begging
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alms. This custom was common in the fifteenth century, but
to see it in usage now astonishes one.
February 14th
We are sitting in semi-inactivity because the Chinese New Year
is being celebrated for several days. I remember how the Ameri-
can Consul in Calcutta, dear Mr. Jenkins, figured out all the days
of the year which were not affected by the holidays of the different
local nationalities. There remained only fifty-two working days.
And here they celebrated the European New Year and now the
Chinese. The various explanations hinder greatly the calcula-
tions of the months. Moslem, Chinese, Tibetan — all these calcu-
late different dates.
A Sart comes and says that near Kucha the inhabitants are
destroying the remains of the Buddhist temples. . . . The reason
is that many travelers and Chinese are interested in these ruins
and frescoes, and it is difficult for the people to accommodate all
these guests. They built a great fire within the ruins, and the
frescoes were destroyed. One may suspect also another cause — the
ancient iconoclasm of the Moslems. Whether by this or some
other means, soon these small remnants of Tokhars and Uigurs
will also disappear.
February iyth
In the morning we visit the Taotai. The impression is one of
good-nature. The yamen has a more livable aspect. One does
not see the tattered soldiers. There is no crowd of beks. Mr.
Tao, the manager of the foreign department, is also present.
Of course, our passports appear to be absolutely correct. The
letters of recommendation are found excellent. And they express
astonishment at the actions of Khotan. They will immediately
send a telegram to the Governor-General about the return of
our arms. During the day we saw the Swedish missionary,
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Torquist, and many inhabitants of the local colony. It is curious
to notice that for a long time now, the Governor-General has
attempted to leave Urumchi with his pillaged goods. But the
neighboring province does not permit him to pass without the
payment of a tribute of many millions. Thus, one of his cara-
vans, comprising several wagons with silver, has already been
confiscated. Now the “dignitary” is trying to transfer his capital
to foreign banks. One also should note that after the murder of
the Titai and his son, in Kashgar, their families suffered com-
plete robbery. The earrings were ripped out of the ears of the
son’s wife. They brought a photo of the crucified Titai. Friends,
look upon this brutality committed without trial and without
thought of responsibility! Incidentally, they say that the Taotai
from Aksu is already collecting soldiers to proceed to Khotan.
The pillaged goods do not lie in the same place for long.
February 16th
The Taotai arrived. Boring conversations about the cult of
ancestors, about astrology, about the weather. He looked at the
photographs of my paintings. He said that he had already tele-
graphed to Urumchi about permission for us to proceed. These
permissions for each step recall the most brutal times and we are
bored by it, to the last degree. Even to complain about the rude-
ness of the officials, one needs permission. Passing through the
city we again observed the local types. These are very cruel
faces. Many more beggars and cripples than in Yarkand. We
must exchange the remaining rupees. We are advised to take
some gold. The Kirghiz are bringing it from the mountains.
Hindus and Turki accept it gladly.
February ijth
The day for the exchange of money. The selection of a
tarantas. A new driver — a Cossack refugee from Orenburg. An
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TAKLA MAKAN— KARASH AHR
instructive scene in the bazaar. A mullah with a whip is chasing
the people to the mosque. The lashes of the whip strike the
backs, the shoulders, the faces. The enthusiasm for prayer is
evoked with difficulty and many are hurrying to hide themselves
in the side-streets. They say that Medresse — the schools at the
mosques — are visited rarely. Even in the wilderness, the people
expect more refined and more profound forms of knowledge.
• • • • •
February 18th
Not far from the village Artish, one can see, high in the
rock, three windows. Of course, these are the Buddhist caves,
explored by LeCoq and Stein. From below one can distinguish
remnants of frescoes. No objects of especial note have been
found there. The people adorn these caves with a legend: The
old king had a daughter. Death from a scorpion’s sting was
predicted for her. In order to save her the king constructed
a dwelling place for her in the rock, but her destiny was fulfilled.
The princess wanted to taste some grapes. She drew up a basket
on a rope and in it a venomous scorpion was hiding.
Fifteen miles eastward, in the middle of the cemetery, the
tomb of Mary the mother of Issa is pointed out. The details
of the legend are slipping away. Why, just Mary in Kashgar,
nobody can tell. It is the same concerning Issa in Srinagar. Are
there not some traces of Nestorianism and Manicheism here ?
Along the bazaar, Kadi, the judge, passes pompously, with a
whip in his hand. He is going to catch gamblers. Of course,
the groups of gamblers quickly disperse and after the passing
of the “guard” they at once collect again. Like opium, gambling
is despoiling the population. We enter a Chinese dwelling.
Opposite the entrance is an altar with New Year’s offerings and
sweets. On the wall is a vividly colored picture of the “ruler”
of the gods. Who is it? It is the same Gessar; it is the same
one who is awaited. Each in his own way. The New Year
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
is welcomed precisely with his image. Even in Kashgar which
is almost Moslem, is hidden the Far Eastern belief. There,
also, we see Kuan Yin, the Mother of the World, and Man-long-
life (the synthesis of all ages). And one more image the “Ruler
of Gods.” This image is less intricate. There are only two
figures — The “Ruler” and his guardian. The “Ruler,” sitting at
the table, is watching the flame of a red candle. In the forehead
of the “Ruler,” is a precious stone like a red star. The picture is
of new and simple work, but very decorative. We went into the
yard of a small temple. The temple itself is closed. The service
is not performed. Opposite the entrance is a stage for the Chinese
theater.
The setting sun is flooding the banks of Tumen daria. Along-
side a narrow ridge you go toward the sandy slopes. Like a dead
city, immovable and breathless, stand the clay walls above these
slopes. The trees are naked. One can see very far. This is the
first sight of what one may call a Central Asiatic city. And not
under ill-smelling sheds of the narrow bazaars; not by the faces
of lepers; but in the golden rays of the sun and in the im-
movability of the walls you realize that Kashgar is verily an
old place.
February igth
Many subterranean waters are in Kashgar. The flooding of
the rivers and the rice fields gives a special kind of fever some-
what like malaria. There are widely varying symptoms: aching
of joints; sleepiness, pain in the extremities.
It is not easy to receive money on checks from China. Taels
were awaiting us since November, but now it is already the end
of February and the post office delays handing over the money.
The money may, of course, have been given out on percentage.
They tell us that one of the local ambans refused, for a long time,
to transfer the collected taxes to the Governor-General, because
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TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
they were loaned out on percentage for the enrichment of the
Amban. They brought photographs of the victims “of justice”:
rows of people with chopped off fingers or soles of the feet with
cut tendons. The majority of them were unable or could not pay
on time “to whom was necessary.” Here are also photographs of
the murdered Titai in his full “glory” with two ribbons crossed,
with stars and with widespread legs. Here are also photographs
of the developments of oil-wells, started by the Titai; group
of the wives of Titai and other local officials. Old letters came
from America from October 30th through Peking. It took three
months and a half to reach us this way.
Apparently to find horses here is still more difficult than in
Yarkand. At Dr. Yalovenko’s, we found all drugs necessary
for us. His little hospital is better equipped than the one of the
Swedish Mission.
We drink tea at the Gillans’; we go with them to inspect a
stupa. Near the river the road starts to become muddy. We
cross a narrow bridge and ascend amidst the fantastic sand
formations created by water and earthquake.
Of course, here was the most ancient part of Kashgar; here
may be found Buddhist traces. The stupa itself has become a
formless mass and only the remnants of the bricks lying at the
bottom, reveal the construction. Its size is great; not smaller
than the great stupa in Sarnath. In reality there remains only
the base, and the whole top cupola has disappeared. It is diffi-
cult among sand slopes to distinguish ruins. How many of such
masked ruins are buried underneath the currents of rivers and
under the sloping Kurgans, under the typical Asiatic cover. . . .
It becomes cold toward evening. And, purple-silhouetted,
stands Kashgar with a Chinese temple on the wall of the city.
The silhouette is not devoid of calmness and grandeur but this is,
as it were, a false grandeur, because the mass of the silhouette
is transformed into the fragility of clay and sand buildings. Late
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
in the evening, George Chu, the Chinese secretary of the British
Consul, arrives with the good news that a telegram from the
Tu-t’u of Urumchi has come, and that we are permitted to leave.
But in spite of the request of the Kashgar Taotai and the British
Consul, our two guns and three revolvers are left sealed and the
permission to paint is not even mentioned, although the Consul
and Taotai distinctly asked about it in the telegrams. Mr. George
Chu smilingly says: “I learned English from an American
teacher in Peking and I have been glad to help and to bring a
good message to an American Expedition.”
February 20th
We prepare the caravan in a hurry, in order to leave more
quickly before the beginning of the spring thaw and before the
flooding of the river. The journey to Urumchi is a good
1,800 miles. It is difficult to get horses. All the best horses are
sent to Fergan where there is a big demand for horses from
Russia.
We have to discharge Ts’ai Han Chen; he became completely
mad yesterday and beat the Ladaki Musu; he is a victim to opium
smoking. We go to express our gratitude to Mr. Gillan for his
help in sending telegrams. I tell him how agreeable it is to find
such cultural regard for the tasks of our Expedition. I regret
that in spite of his representation neither the arms nor the per-
mission to sketch have been given. I ask him to give us the text
of the telegrams that he sent, for inclusion in our diary. Then
some talk about the exchange of rupees which rose in value to the
sars. There are rumors about the exchange of the current sars for
a new currency. Nobody knows anything. Just as the missionary
Torquist says: “The Chinese are born Confucians. They live as
Taoists and die Buddhists.” We should like to see real Chinese.
So much is being spoken about the intensive work in Canton. Is
it possible that there they do not know about the dark life of
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TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
Chinese Turkestan? Is it possible that they do not know how
one robber usurps the place of another robber and crucifies him —
not for the people’s welfare, not for justice, but for personal
motives and personal enrichment? And the helpers of the
“power” — the rich beks — are treading with whips on the bent
backs of the poor.
• • • • •
February 21st
It is impossible to find horses. All the good horses have been
dispatched to Andijan to transport goods from abroad. Now
they are demanding one sar a day for horses. The price is un-
precedented. We will have to take arbas, and this means that to
Urumchi we will have to go fifty-five days instead of forty. It
is 1,800 miles. We must hurry because the thaw will soon begin.
Outside the city, near the horse-market, is an interesting mazar,
Gissarlik — a mazar which is said to belong to some Mongolian
count. There is a belief that if one throws a piece of clay at the
cupola of a mazar, one’s moles fall off.
February 2 3rd
It is not easy to receive money through the Chinese post office.
Since November, the post office has not been able to collect 1,600
Mexican dollars. It is really ridiculous when one knows that the
local general, by commission of the Governor-General is trans-
ferring 10,000 pounds of “personal savings” through here.
We went to the Taotai to talk about our arms and the per-
mission to sketch. The Taotai came to a resolution, “Try to
paint and if the police prohibit it, then stop.” Our arms became
rusted from dampness. When we pointed it out, we were told
by the interpreter of the Consulate, “Do not make too much
fuss about it.” Again we felt ourselves in a country not of
justice, but in a country of personal license. We were also told
that if Tu T’u (the Governor-General) will find us worthy then
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
he will permit us our arms and the possibility of work. Colossal
indifference is needed to accept seriously all these sentences. It
is interesting to know by what means and with what apparatus
the Governor-General will investigate our “worthiness,” for the
work and for the arms. . . . But the “worthiness” of similar offi-
cials is evident to us without any special apparatus. Whence come
these depths of ignorance? To cap the climax it was stipulated
that we should not remove from the case containing the arms,
any more than were permitted. That means, we should not take
out the revolvers. As usual, the visit ended with assurances that
they had helped us very much. Such hypocrisy!
February 2 4th
The tales about the movements of the Chinese army of Sin-
kiang are interesting. A cannon is drawn by two horses. On
each one of them sits a soldier. On the muzzle of the cannon
also sits a warrior. When the horses stop, they add one more
nag from a village. “An army” which went forth 20,000 strong,
at an expense of 6,000,000 sars, reached the battleground about
2,000 in number. They count the size of the army by the number
of caps. Therefore, if there are not enough “warriors” in the
carts, they put out caps on sticks. The calculation of cavalry is
by men and horses, or doubly. Nowhere is this forgotten province
written about as it actually is. Unknowingly some of the trav-
elers don a dress suit, when they visit the Taotai, but it is time
to tell what really exists. It is time to speak simply, in the name
of human dignity. One may consider “seriously” the surviving
customs of the inhabitants of the Solomon Islands, but a king-
dom with 400,000,000 people cannot be looked upon in our times
from the point of view of ethnographical curiosities. One ought
in every way to help the true workers of China to bring the
country out of its tragi-comical situation. We do not know what
and how will be our further path, but the observations of the
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unembellished life of Sinkiang appall us. Sinkiang was con-
quered in its time by Mongols, Arabs, Chinese, Tibetans. The
backs of the Sarts endured everything and they brought their
salaams.
• m m • •
February 25th
If you have a Chinese postal money-order, it does not mean
that as yet you have the money. China cannot even redeem a
check for 1,600 Mexican dollars. Whereas the local bank
through Tashkent pays you immediately. Friends, do not use
the Chinese mail. The letters are opened, many things do not
reach you; and money is not delivered to you. Again, one has
to transport one’s consciousness to the Solomon Islands and then
one can understand better the actions of the Sinkiang company.
And here again the British Consul and his secretary, Chu,
must take steps for us. Thanks to their personal influence, as a
special favor, we finally receive that which is one’s common right.
We express to Mr. Chu our hope that we will meet him in
the Washington or Paris Embassies. We exchange greetings with
Major and Mrs. Gillan. Truly, they have helped us to leave
Khotan. We ask each other where we shall meet again.
February 2 6th
We left. In the morning the Consul with his wife came to say
good-by; the Secretary of the Consulate, Chu, the Director of
the Bank, Anokhin; Dr. Yalovenko; the family of Krijhoffs.
We said good-by. We sat for a while. Where shall we meet
again? We pass through the Kashgar bazaars. We go through
the sandy gray road. At the left, the Kashgar River glows blue;
pools, rice fields, fever-beds. At the right are villages, and muddy
lakes. A milky spring mist is overhanging. The crossing is
not long. Toward three o’clock we stopped in a small village,
Yamdom.
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We have parted with Ts’ai Han Chen. He smoked opium
and led women away from the bazaars and beat the servants. I
remember his two stories: The horse under him was frightened
and he fell down. For that he broke the horse’s leg with a
stone. Another story: An eagle came down and scratched his
hand. Here the vengeance was subtle; a piece of meat stuffed
with gunpowder was put out on a long wick. The eagle seized
the meat and exploded.
The man who goes ahead as the scout is called Dorogha here.
Toward evening it gets cold. There is no snow. The moun-
tains are not seen.
February 27th
Salt marshes, bushes, willows, small villages. A short cross-
ing to Faizabad. By half-past one, we are already at the site.
Nevertheless, in the book of routes, the way from Kashgar to
Faizabad is divided into three days. Even at a slow walking pace
one can reach it sooner. How thoroughly all the books with
information about the “facts” must be inspected. Too many
untrue “facts” are lying on the shelves of libraries and there is
too much reverence attached to the printed word, without any
revaluation.
Anew, anew, anew — through new consciousness and new con-
tainment.
And some people respect money as such! Just now wooden
chips were brought to us with inscribed signs, and the people
assure us that this is real money: And the best money, because
it is issued by the gamblers. This authority apparently stands
in high esteem. Everywhere in the bazaars are groups of men
actively occupied in gambling. I remember hearing in some
bank a furious exclamation: “I do not pay you with wooden
chips.” According to the local customs this remark was not ex-
aggerated. The chip is brown, three-and-a-half inches long, and
[ 222 ]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
on it, inscribed by hand, are Chinese signs. People love this
money because it does not tear. The redemption of these signs
is very simple here. After the sign is worn out the government
refuses to redeem it at the treasury, and the last owner of such
a symbol liquidated the State debt. We investigated the sites
of our further encampments and we found that these are not
correctly given in the book of routes. We sometimes have to
combine two stretches, otherwise we will not reach Urumchi even
in fifty days. They sent us two soldiers as escorts — true bandits.
We had to send them back.
February 2 8th
The whole night, till four o’clock, under the full green moon,
they were singing all around in the different \ishla\s probably
in honor of the month of Barat. They sang wildly, but mel-
lowed by distance, the notes sometimes resounded beautifully.
The singing was not by Sarts, but by Torguts. How strange!
How did Torguts come to Moslem Faizabad? Of course these
are prisoners of former wars. Until now, they have retained their
customs of singing their resonant songs under the full moon.
Analyzing the nationalities, you can sometimes distinguish them
by the remnants of their garments, sometimes by the language
and sometimes by the ancient sacred chants. During the nights
the melodies of their native land ring out. And somehow the
heart readily responds to this call. It is instructive to follow the
combinations of peoples covered by the sands of the deserts.
We rose early, at five o’clock, because -he road is long — fifteen
p’o-t’ai. It means a hundred and fifty Ci.'nese lee, which means
about sixty miles. First, salt marshes, greenish-gray; then dead
sand, bar\hans. The dust is opaque; the thin brush has been
uprooted for fuel and because of this the entire desert is being
completely devastated, while two stops away from Kashgar are
wonderful coal and oil deposits. People themselves through their
[223]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
ignorance deplete their soil. Near the small rivers ice is still
lying; and under the sun, it is already burning hot and it is
difficult to move in furs. The site of the encampment is called
Kara julgun, a small gray village. The caravan is late. We
drink tea out of the local \ungan. There is not enough black
paint to depict this teapot. The sketches are multiplying.
March ist
It seems to be the most desolate crossing. Almost the entire
time we went along the sites of old destroyed forests. All the
har\hans are filled with gigantic old stumps and roots. Appar-
ently there was a big forest here but now people have carried
away the wood. The sands have scattered it and one proceeds
as though along a gnarled cemetery. The scanty brush cannot
withstand the sand burans. Everything is gray. Gray also are
the pools and the spring floods which have begun. On account
of these floods we are making twelve p’o-t’ai, instead of eight.
Ditches, stumps, sand slopes; the biggest Chinese road is com-
parable to a small trail. During the day we meet a few sparse
caravans, but they, of course, cannot comprise the nerve of true
commerce. Everything is dead.
The gray village Urdaklik. On the flat roofs silent figures
linger, though they cannot see anything from their roof but the
dusty horizon. And these people have no outlook or hope.
Occasional travelers pass by them. During the night the fire of
a caravan will suddenly flare up. And again the same oppressive
silence. Geese and ducks are flying toward the spring floods
but here only the crows and rooks are keeping house. Instead
of a plow, some wooden implement of the stone age. Is it
possible that the beks and Chinese ambans succeed in enrich-
ing themselves at the expense of these people also?
Our Chinese escort has no luck. In three days, three warriors”
[224]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
managed to fall down from their horses. What if there were
a whole regiment of such tseri\s, as they are called here?
It is related that in certain Chinese armies the cannons are
carried on the backs of people, and the enemies in the daytime
shoot in the air and at night sit together at their gambling.
March 2nd
Chinese Turkestan has been described from the archaeo-
logical standpoint; the ancient conquest and the change of ruler-
ship have been recounted. But nothing has been related of the
present consciousness of the country. Yet, in the progress of the
world’s evolution we cannot cover with silence this vast country
forgotten by destiny. It is very instructive to follow the remnants
of the Tokhar, Uigur and Mongol constructions, but it is also very
instructive and astonishing to see into what the consciousness
of the country has turned: Again the same sandy gray hope-
lessness.
The buran lasts the entire day. We go beside “the forest” —
to speak more correctly, the forest-cemetery. The surviving \ar-
gach — trees — are sticking out, crooked, brushy and horny.
Instead of the sun there is a silvery circle. How clearly one sees
the reason which impelled the great migrators and conquerors
toward the west and south. Imagining a great migration, do
not picture feet, shoes or hoofs — everything up to the waistline
is drowned in a thick dusty cloud.
We overtake an old man. He is complaining about something.
We understand that somebody has broken his shoulder and that
they have driven away sixteen of his horses. Of course on the
Karakorum heights, they are more ethical. During the day we
meet three caravans of donkeys and half a dozen carts. We stop
in Chuga. We covered fourteen-and-a-half p’o-t’ai. Is it possible
that this is the greatest Chinese road? And can a government
be called a power which keeps its chief artery in such condition ?
[225]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
One has to cry out about this, as about every ignorant deed
impeding culture.
E. I. caught cold.
March yd
It is especially absurd to realize that a whole day of exhausting
travel is equal to two hours’ ride by automobile or to an hour
by aeroplane. The roads here could be utilized easily for auto-
mobiles and one would not even have to build aerodromes. Per-
haps nothing would so awaken the people’s consciousness as a
steel bird with a message of good cheer and with necessary sup-
plies. Through these aisles, with their files of dusty and over-
loaded donkeys, would be opened a crevice of reason. Sir Aurel
Stein expresses in his books the fear lest the primitiveness of this
country be disturbed by the building of railroads and other evi-
dences of civilization. I always have been against uncultural
evidences of civilization, but there are moments of such paralysis
of a country that one needs every supermeasure of enlightenment.
But the Buddhist knows the reason of the apathy of the country:
In the Books of Kanjur it is said that if the country should reject
the teaching of Buddha, the trees would wither and the grass
would droop and welfare would disappear.
We make our way first along the so-called “forest,” then salt
marshes. We get into the flood of Yarkand darya; finally, we
reach the clay walls and towers of Maral-bashi. Do not shoot
at these walls with a cannon — too much dust will remain! The
long bazaar of Maral-bashi is dirtier and darker than the other
bazaars, or equal to all others. We halt in a garden far behind
the city. The Amban has sent to inquire our names. It appears
that in the order of the Kashgar Taotai regarding our passage
our name is omitted. No, with Chinese conduct of affairs you
will not go far!
Among the sars which were given to us with such difficulty in
[226]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
Kashgar, many are valueless. There should be ten letters on
them, but often the tenth, the middle letter, is torn out and then
the money is no longer accepted. Carefully examine all money
which you receive whether from the bazaar or from the governor’s
yamen.
George remembers that Prjevalsky was the first to speak about
Tun-huang, but afterwards the honor of this discovery was
claimed by other scientists. As early as the Seventies, Prjevalsky
spoke about these remarkable cave temples.
Near Maral-bashi are a few lakes. Fish abound. But some-
times one finds poisonous fish.
A new insolence from the Amban. He informs us that he will
send us soldiers if we will ask him. But we do not need soldiers
and, according to the command of the Governor-General they are
guarding our confiscated and sealed arms. How can we question
the Amban about the fulfillment of the command of the Gover-
nor-General? It is insolent and absurd. Again the people say:
“The Amban does not know any customs.” Sung had to go in
spite of fatigue and the late hour to bring the Amban to reason,
to tell him that we do not need the soldiers but they are needed
by the order of the Governor-General.
March 4th
They send new soldiers. They do not even look like people,
simply like insects. We remembered the stories of M.; how
he himself turned to flight thirty tserikj and how a whole regi-
ment of tserikj surrendered to two gunners. Yes, apparently
all this is not exaggerated.
We first went by a dismal plain. Soon, at the right, against
the yellow sky, appeared the opal silhouette of the mountains.
Welcome, beloved mountains!
Suleiman relates, “A giant was living here. He saw that the
lake was too big and with his sword he chopped the slopes from
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
the neighboring mountains and threw them here. Behind this
mountain is a beautiful garden and holy people live there but
nobody can enter without their permission. Sarts have tried
to go there but nobody has ever come back.” And Suleiman
pointed to the southeast.
Soon an unpleasant experience is in store for us. Some people
gallop to meet us and warn us that water has begun to overflow
the road. We had to make a detour of twenty miles. One also
has to place this against the account of our arrest and detention
in Khotan. We lost the best time for travel. Now we will be
delayed everywhere by floods.
Another tale: “Under Urumchi is a steep mountain and there
also live holy people. Once a Kalmuck wounded a mountain
ram and the ram led the Kalmuck to a holy man. The man
asked the Kalmuck to remain with them but the Kalmuck asked
to return home, and the holy man gave the Kalmuck a lapful
of wooden chips. The Kalmuck took them and thought, Where
shall I carry these rarities ?’ He took them and threw them out
into the woods. Only two chips remained caught, and when he
came home, lo! gold hung to his garments. And so the Kalmuck
lost.”
We are going further, near gray sandy mountains with vigor-
ous strata. We pass an old tomb. Then we pass a mazar of a
giant holy man. They say that even the trails of the hoofs of
his horses have remained on the mountain. The mountains
become more beautful and merge into the romantic silhouette of
Bible lore. Not far from here is an ancient site, Haivar. Near
the road are the remains of the Chinese fortress, Angelik. Then,
again, sands and floods.
Another tale: “Not far from Angelik is an old house. Who-
ever enters it is lost in wonder at the rich adornments and the
heaps of gold. If one takes a heap of gold the door closes by
itself, and he cannot leave. And until he returns the gold, to
[228]
TAKLA MAK AN — KARASHAHR
the very last grain, so long the door will remain unopened. A
similar place is near Uch-Turfan. There stands a structure like
a city, one can even see the smoke but only on Fridays can
one enter. But one cannot carry out gold from this site either.
And in Kucha they found an underground opening like a whole
subterranean passage. They brought thousands of wagons with
stones to fill it in — but they could not. The stones are to be
seen even now. The tomb of a saint was also found there.
Thirty-nine doors were open into it but they could not open the
fortieth. And so they covered it again.” The people remember
also about the predicted beautiful gardens and about foreign
gold.
It becomes dark. We come to the village Tumshuk. Bonfires
and stars, and dreams of the people. And for a long, long time,
some one was praying, by the light of a bonfire. For what?
Is it not for enlightenment? High stands the chalice of Orion.
Around the bonfire barefooted youths are lying — this is our guard.
• • • • •
March $th
If you want to give a gift to these barefooted night guards
your desire is in vain. All that you give will be taken away
by the Elder. . . .
One of the tedious crossings is to Yaka Khuduk. Again
unbearable dust; hidden ditches. A burnt forest. Boar-weed
and shallow river banks. There are many boar. Often we travel
under a single telegraph wire. This is the same line which
transmits telegrams in an absolutely unintelligible shape. In the
last telegram from New York, there was a series of unintelligible
letters and only the one last word “Advise” was legible. To
whom and about what? One may think that it is a very sly
code or a mischievous joke, where only the last provocative word
is comprehensible.
Another tale: “In Kashgar recently lived a holy man. He
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
heard when people in the holy place were praying, although it
took six months to reach that place. There is such an holy place
behind the mountains. In the district of Orenburg also there
lived such a man. He heard about the present and the future,
and about the war and about famine. In two hundred years
the Sarts expect a great saint, and perhaps earlier.”
We stop on the dusty bank of Yarkand darya. Sometimes a
wind rises and whirls tall cruel pillars of sand. Here are small
clay huts, naked bushes and sandy river banks.
March 6th
It is very simple to give an idea of our passage of to-day! On
a round dish place a good bit of gray dust; throw in a few gray
pieces of wool and stick in fragments of matches. Let ants
crawl over this bumpy plain, and for realism, blow it in order to
create pillars of dust.
And so we creep along. We expected to stay in Chulan, but
there the water is bitter so we had to make a detour in order to
spend the night in a \ishla\ in New Chulan. At the approach
to its gray clay huts a light silhouette of mountains is seen unex-
pectedly— the thresholds of T’ian Shan. E. I.’s cold is still tor-
turing her.
Suleiman relates how now in this country are two firms
dealing in sausage casings; one German (Faust) and one Ameri-
can (Brenner). The prices of casings have risen so unprece-
dentedly that the works have become unprofitable. It is very
strange to know that the casings of the sausages in American
markets come from Khotan and Aksu. The same obstacles occur
in the cotton trade. In order to raise the prices they mix dif-
ferent unmatched varieties and in this way are ruining the value
of the entire product. With silk, similar difficulties occur. It
is impossible to obtain the delivery of an entire order of a
quality equal to a chosen sample. It is impossible to obtain
[230]
TAKLA MAKAN— KARASH A HR
material of a chosen shade. All this reduces the industry to
medieval conditions. The melons and the raisins are of good
quality.
The amber sun melts into the dusk of the horizon. In the
distances the eyes of the bonfires light up. Somewhere some one
is sitting and weaving the design of rumors. In the dusk the
songs thunder out. The noisy Tamasha is held.
March yth
It appears that the water in old Chulan is very good, even
better than in New Chulan. But the inhabitants of New Chulan
decided to lure the passers-by and threw dead mules and dogs
into the lake of old Chulan. The caravan is the nerve of the
country and this case of luring the passers-by is quite typical.
We went thirteen p’o-t’ai, as far as the small habitation of Chutu
Khuduk, a battered-down little village. It seems incredible that
this little station is on the greatest road of China. All along are
sands, but on the left stretches a mass of mountains and the pearly
foothills adorn the horizon.
Another tale: “Near the city Osch there is still a Mountain of
Solomon. There even remain the little impressions where Solo-
mon prayed on his knees.”
We recall how the British Consul in Kashgar notified us that
George’s friend Allen Priest was in Urumchi as late as November.
After Boston we met Priest on the threshold of the Vatican in
Rome. And now we find him on the Asiatic roads — an active
sensitive man. The British Consul says that he received the per-
mission to go from Siberia to Peking. Will we still find him
in Urumchi? There are people with whom it is agreeable to
meet anywhere — where shall we meet our dear Americans?
It is long since we have seen so noble a sunset with such broad
gradations of opal purple hues. The golden sun, somewhat
dulled, lingered long on the crags of the far-off mountains.
[231 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
And it went leaving a soft fiery pillar. These mountains mark
the limits of this country. To-day there are no songs. The
village is silent. In the outskirts on the plain are our tents.
From above, Orion peers down.
E. I. has almost recovered.
March 8th
We approach Ujkul, first by sands; afterward two p’o-t’ai of
habitations; fields; altogether ten p’o-t’ai. They start to sow.
They are plowing. The plow is of the stone age. Two oxen
drag one horny wooden device. Can one plow deeply with such
utensil? The day is springlike. A fresh wind and the warmth
of the sun. Ujkul is a long dusty village. For a day there are
a few occurrences in the caravan! A horse fell; his head swelled
all the morning, and at three, he died. In the mafa of the Gegen,
the middle horse fell on a bad ridge. We feared we could not
raise him. Thereupon it was discovered that yesterday a cart
fell down and the entire load fell out. And the guarding tseri\
had hidden this occurrence. When we reprimanded him he
idiotically smiled.
The cool evening approaches; we speak about the decline of
the Chinese language. There are 40,000 signs collected, but not
one of them expresses the letter R. In olden times there was a
sign which approximately expressed this letter, but afterward it
disappeared out of the 8,000 signs used in daily life. One asks
oneself why dictionaries preserve 32,000 unnecessary signs? In
these unnecessary tatters is seen the complete decline of Chinese
evolution. And as a result the local people whisper: “Do not go
into this yard; there are Chinese!” or “Can one expect justice
from Chinese?”
And how many young people are innocently dragging after
them the results of the ignorance and cruelty of their fathers
and grandfathers. How they must hasten to get rid of such an
[232]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
inheritance! If all these many thousands of signs have led them
toward ignorance, one should quickly liberate oneself from
these skeletons of conventions. Valiantly and severely one has
to cut out the decay of survivals. Otherwise, why have entire
nations vanished so often from the history of the earth ? “Great
Matter is weaving its design and mercilessly casts out each use-
less thread from its cosmic web.” Why did Confucius have to
keep his traveling cart always at hand? When the criminal
power departs one will have to provide railroads and the possi-
bility of growth and exchange for the people immediately. And
how easy it would be to lay railroad lines along the plains here!
To-day the water is especially bad. During the whole week
the water was yellowish brown, and to-day it is soapy gray and
ill-smelling — one cannot drink it. You may expect some one to
draw the head of a Dungan from out the well in a pail. This
has already happened!
March gth
From Ujkul we go to Aksu, the capital of the unsuccessful
Yakub-bek, who half a century ago tried to liberate Turkestan
from Chinese rule, but could not find allies. The road is dank
with many ditches. The river Aksu — it means white water —
has already started to overflow. The bridges, as everywhere, are
dancing as though alive. And this is the chief road of China!
Gray sky and a yellow plowed field. We remember America;
we remember the beauties of Santa Fe, the Grand Canyon, Colo-
rado and Arizona. Again we mentally urge our friends — the
Americans — to know better the beauties of their superb country.
We recall how all types of ungifted Jean Cocteaux in Europe
offer Americans a special dish of nonsense. . . . But America is
full of its own possibilities.
Imperceptibly we approach the borders of Aksu. The same
[233]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
little clay houses and stalls. As always, two cities. The old
one on the muddy place. The new, a little drier, where live the
Chinese officials, Taotai, Amban and the Colonel. Five days
from here is the Muzart Pass toward the Iliisk district of the
Kalmucks. We stop in the new city, in the garden of the
Andijan Aksakal. It is dusty.
To-day the first bloodshed occurred. Two tramps beat our
mafa\esh until he bled and almost took out his eye. Screaming.
Noise. The tramps were caught. They bound them and took
them to the Amban. And our revolvers are sealed, because the
Governor-General (that is the Tu-t’u) does not trust our Ameri-
can papers of recommendation. The Governor of course does
not know his province; he is busy transferring his riches to dif-
ferent banks through various fantastic ways: to get it more quickly
out of this territory! The Lama begs us not to remain in Aksu
a long time. The local bazaar is notorious for its thievery and
perversion. It is getting dark. The Amban comes to visit us.
An agreeable exception; he speaks English, a little bit of other
languages; he was employed in the Russian Asiatic Bank and
knows personally Allan Priest (now Priest is in Peking). We
converse a long time. The Amban begs us to remain for a day,
otherwise he cannot arrange for two horses until Kucha. We
tell him about the Khotan ignoramuses. He shrugs his shoulders
and says: “Probably you are in China for the first time.” A
sympathetic type of young official, who is watching events and
who knows the significance of many things. He will come for
luncheon to-morrow. He is the first cultured Chinese we en-
countered here. He does not seem to have the aggressiveness of
Chu in Kashgar. The Amban of Aksu is somewhat on the type
of earnest Chinese students, whom one may meet in American
and Parisian universities. We rejoice to meet this type because
we had molded our understanding of contemporary China ac-
[234]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
cording to his type and not according to the buffalos. Let us see
what will happen further.
• • • • •
March 10th
Early in the morning we heard familiar singing. Thus at
dawn on the passes did the Ladaki sing their prayers; and so it
is here. Our two Ladaki caravaneers are sitting under a tree
and are singing harmonious hymns to Tara and the Lord
Maitreya.
Pan Tsi-lu, the Amban, comes. We speak about Chinese prob-
lems, about religion, about the teachings of life. He complains
very much about the life in Aksu. He dreams of leaving because
he cannot do anything there. Being alone and a subordinate,
he cannot start anything constructive. We wished him success
in his intentions. The Amban brought two issues of Chinese
papers of the ninth and sixteenth of January. We read how
Chang Tso Lin has declared himself independent of the central
government. We read also of the resignation of Feng.
• • • • •
March nth
The last Chinese in the caravan has exploded! It came out
that Sung has spent each night in the bazaar playing cards. The
amputated finger did not teach him a lesson. Of our Chinese,
two turned out to be opium smokers, and two gamblers. And
here the best of the Chinese whom we met — the Amban in
Aksu — is anxious to leave this country and feels that he cannot
do anything. And who will be the one to undertake, courage-
ously and self-sacrificingly, to turn this dusty cemetery into a
flourishing garden? Silver and copper and coal and oil — all are
there; but there is no solicitous hand.
We go by a long path to Karakhuduk (eighteen p’o-t’ai ).
First the clay walls of the new city. Then the pearly desert.
Then bur\hans and reeds. We march until midnight. We stop
[235]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
at a Chinese inn. Another worry: the backs of the pack horses
are rotting because the caravaneers never remove the saddles; and
the luggage is permeated with a repulsive odor. In the future
it will be necessary to regulate this caravan evil ; horses, mules and
camels are so burdened here that one cannot permit them to be
devoured alive by worms. Tibetans pity the horses. But Kashmiri
and Sarts consign them to the worms. It is difficult to believe.
March 12th
The Sinkiang anecdote continues: To-day our famous escort
wanted to attach an arrested criminal to our caravan. With
great noise we had to eject the uninvited recruit.
And the entire day has been such a beautiful one. We have
been going through fantastic, ancient sand formations. The sun
is already burning but in the shade there is still ice. There are
no trees nor habitations — far around us is the desert, ending in
blue cragged hills. The lines are simple and powerful. In such
places one may expect old monuments. At sunset we approach
a lonely langar, Toghrak-dang. Very high up on the sandy
rocks, something is silhouetted. We have no doubt that these
are openings of old Buddhist caves. And so it is. Some of them
are outlined very high and the entrances to them are crumbled.
But three caves are on a low slope. The ceilings and the walls
are pretty well gone. Of course it is the Moslems who have de-
stroyed the images they hate. Near the ground a little below are
still seen the remnants of ornaments, covered over with Turki in-
scriptions. But the most enticing thing is the hollow sound be-
neath the floor. It means that below, in the buried part of the
rock, are also caves, not even filled in. We do not remember any
mention of this place in Stein. It recalls to us the Tokhar antiqui-
ties of the fifth to the eighth centuries. The caves face the
East. Before the eyes of the hermits spread the broad mountain
view — a good and beautiful place. Under the cave a mountain
[236]
SACRED CAVES
(Maitreya Series)
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
spring murmurs — not a waterfall but just a light little stream. The
thin spring runs through a wooden trough into the wooden pail
of the Sart woman. So, also, did the hermits draw their water
here. Among the crumbled fragments many pieces of basalt
glow darkly. Of course, beside the caves there were stupas and
separate structures, which were covered by the avalanche of rocks.
Little bells are ringing; the postman is hurrying to pass us with
two sealed bags of mail. From Kashgar to Urumchi the mail
takes thirteen days.
• • • • •
March 13th
The children from the langar hasten to gather the papers left
by the caravan. One little girl finds a colorful label from a match
box. The exultation of the possessor is unbounded. We regret
not having colored postal cards to distribute. If you want to
find a place in a child’s heart in the quickest way, do it through
vividly colored little pictures. The children will take them with
joy and will remember.
We bid farewell to the caves. We pass rich sand formations,
like high waves with congealed crests, or like threatening out-
stretched fingers, or like towers with bridges, or like tents. After
the mountains we descend again to the sands. Probably a buran
from Takla Makan has swept past here. Everything is drowned
in clouds of thick dust. We shall stop in Kushtami in a dusty
langar. Again some people are quarreling noisily. On our way
we meet several droves of horses. They go to the Russian border
toward Andijan. The breed of horses is not fine. We are
nearing the horse country and the breed becomes inferior: the
values and reputations have to be carefully examined. This was
apparent already in the jade, silk, horses; in the quality of sing-
ing, in ceramics, and many other things. And one should not
be afraid to examine traditions because it is time to transport one’s
[237]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
self from the past to the future. One can know the past but one
has to direct one’s consciousness toward the future.
In the yard of the langar is a band of professional gamblers.
Near the place are two tents of Karakirghiz — notorious thieves.
Exactly in this place an escort given by the Amban once robbed
a traveler. One has to take special precautions. The village
did not send any guards. If we had our rifles everything would
be well, but the ceremony of the sealing of the arms was made
openly in order that the servants and all the knaves along the
road would know. One cannot rely upon the Chinese escort.
The only guard is our Tibetan Tumbal.
• • • • •
March 14th
As one might have expected, during the night an outrageous
thing occurred. It appeared that in spite of our refusal, the
prisoner went along with our caravan. During the night there
was frenzied gambling. The prisoner lost much money. They
bound him. ... In a word, the Chinese have arranged for us an
“honorary” escort. Quicker, quicker out of this region!
After the buran, everything merges into mist. The mountains
disappear. Yellow fields and occasional black oxen at the plow.
They are sowing. On the poplars the buds swell. But here and
there, near the rivers, lies late snow. We should stop in the
city of Bai. But we are terrified at the dirt of the bazaar and
decide to go five p’o-t’ai farther to the small langar. We are
standing in a field among old tombs — mazars. In the darkness
we set up the tents. It is interesting to note that the Amban in
Bai is a nephew of the Tu-t’u. Apparently he has a collection
of nephews and to all are given positions of Ambans and Con-
suls. The Sinkiang Company! To-day important decisions are
made. There is a communication.
• • • • •
[238]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
March 15th
A dull day. Purple-gray sky. Yellow fields. The mountains
at the right are of a pale opal silhouette. In these mountains
are caves. Three p’o-t’ai from Kizil, where we shall stop, the
caves have been explored by Stein. The remnants of the paintings
have been burned by the local iconoclasts. On the way we find
huge herds of sheep and goats. Where are they being driven?
The answer is the same: to Andijan; the sheep, and the goats and
the horses and the bulls and the wool, everything is going for sale.
The common dream is trade and communications with foreigners.
At the same time, hordes of Sarts are going away to find work,
because one cannot find any work here. To Andijan, to Kuldje,
to Chuguchak — these are three arteries which attract the travel
of the entire country. We go through a bazaar and again they
are calling to us, “You go well, Urus.” Where from is this?
To-morrow to Kucha we have a long way — eighteen p’o-t’ai.
We have to leave at five o’clock.
March 16th
One of the most beautiful days. Up to seven o’clock it is
freezing and then there is a hot sun. First a valiant desert, in
pearly tones. Afterwards a crossing brings the most unusual
sand formations, like congealed ocean waves, like hundred-tow-
ered castles, like cathedrals, like yurtas — and all in an endless
variety. In the Toghrak-dang langar we feed the horses. Not
far from there are two caves with traces of colored decoration.
Two p’o-t’ai from Kucha on a slope rises a tower, Kizil karga —
meaning the red raven. On looking back we notice that not far
away are the dark entrances of caves. We dismount and hurry
there over the sandy mounds. These are the same celebrated
caves, it seems to me, some of which LeCoq reproduced. But,
as always, reproductions do not give even a fraction of the real
[239]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
impression. One must come to this amphitheater of former
temples toward evening, when the impression is intensified by
the quietude of nature. One has to imagine all these cavern-
shrines, not with darkened walls and vaults, but vividly and
brilliantly frescoed. In the niches one has to imagine the figures
of the Blessed One and of Bodhisattvas, which are now carried
away. In one cave remain the traces of images of thousands
of Buddhas. In another cave remains the place of repose of
Buddha and a part of the ceiling. The bottoms of the walls are
covered with Moslem inscriptions. Under the floor one feels hol-
low spaces. Apparently there is a row of unopened subterranean
structures. One cannot consider these excavations completed if
the hollowness of the hidden parts resounds so apparently. Not
Lamaism, but traces of true Buddhism are apparent in the
silence of these caves. Of course it is wonderful that examples
of the frescoes have been scattered into the museums of Europe.
But the walls of the caves remain denuded and the true image
of the shrines has disappeared — only the skeletons have remained.
We are going to Kucha, passing a row of gardens. The city
seems cleaner than the others. Why is this ? The Elder, the old
Mullah, forces them to clean the streets. Of course it is again
impossible to halt in the bazaar. They mention a garden behind
the city but how can one reach it in the complete darkness which
has fallen? A savior appears; out of this same darkness emerges
a white turban, and an unexpected friend, a Sart, leads us out of
town. There is a garden and a house and stables. The hostlers
beg that they may sleep in the kitchen. Why ? In the house for
the servants lives “a man deprived of a soul.” They mean an
insane man. And the whole group of healthy peasants is afraid
of him. The cook calls the chicken-coop the little chickens’ car-
riage. Here we are in the capital of Tokhars. Here it is that the
Tokhar King, Pochan, was persecuted by the Chinese and flew
[240]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
out of the city on a dragon, taking with him all his treasure!
Much is rumored about the gold in the Buddhist caves.
March iyth
The whole morning is spent in negotiations with arba\eshs,
mafa\eshs and \ora\eshs; at first everything seems impossible.
Then after an avalanche of unnecessary discussion everything
becomes possible. At first, as far as Karashahr, the road is esti-
mated as twelve long days. Whereas, as everybody knows, eight
days is the customary period. We peer into all these faces. And
where are the traces of the Tokhars ? They are not visible. Per-
haps something of a more Mongoloid type appears in the features,
but in general, these are the same Turk Sarts. And thus, the
Tokhars disappeared leaving no traces and no one knows even the
true pronunciation of the symbols of their writings.
So, before the eyes of history has come a nation, from whence
is unknown; nor is it known how it scattered and disappeared
without a trace. And not a savage people but one with a written
language, with culture. Just so is it with their Tzar Pochan:
whither he flew on the dragon is known. And it is strange to sit
in this same country — in this pear-garden — and not know any-
thing about the inhabitants who were here not long ago.
One cannot obtain objects of antiquity here either — “Some-
where, some one knows about them in Takla Makan.”
March 18th
At one o’clock at night, drums, trumpets and singing began.
Loud and shrill and persistent were the screams of “Allah.”
These are the Moslems preparing for the fast of Ramazan. Dur-
ing the day they have to fast, but at night they can partake of food
aplenty. In order not to outsleep the period of eating, the good
Moslems play and dance on the eve of the day’s fast. The dogs
barked a great deal and were running wild during the night.
[241 ]
ALTAI. HIMALAYA
Ramsana got up in order to inspect the camp and he noticed
that the government guards, the tseri\s, slept heavily. Ramsana
took away the rifle from one of them, went around the camp
and fell asleep with the rifle. The tseri\ was startled when he
awoke in the morning without his gun. Oh, these unhappy
tseri\s!
In the morning came a Swedish woman missionary. She has
been in this country for fifteen years and not one convert! How-
ever, the missionary busies herself with doctoring and midwifery
and here it is absolutely necessary because all these “cities” are
without a single doctor.
Then begins the American day. We go to see the American
firm, Brenner Brothers of New York. They are in the gut and
wool business. An entire community of vigorous working people.
A unique community with children and with a joyous realiza-
tion of the growing work. The business is developing. With
all the primitiveness of the apparatus one has to admire the fine
results. Here they are assorting and washing the wool. Here,
on a hand-made press they are pressing it. Here a line of camels
are waiting to lift the white heaps of wool and to carry them
abroad, to Tientsin and to the ports for Europe and America.
In the whole artel there are no books; for the entire community
there is one New Testament and an accidental volume of Koro-
lenko. It is a joy to be able to give them old newspapers and
two books. There are tales about the affairs of the Sarts. They
praise the murdered Titai. They ask what happens in the
world. D. is skillfully interpreting the local customs by way of
religious discussions. In this way the intolerance and superstition
which are spread by the Mullahs find resistance. And there is
much intolerance. And many of the local Beys have planned to
strangle the new foreign enterprise.
D. and P. show themselves as pioneers for America in this
[242]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
country. They listen to our tales about America. D. tells about
the mineral riches of the Torgut and Iliisk district.
The Kalmucks are excellent marksmen. The Kalmuck ad-
ministration does not hesitate to make innovations. The people
praise the Sarts for their work. They have initiative, ability and
adaptability.
In the country are many narrators of legends and fairy tales
which touch the questions of the Koran and religion. Often the
listeners enter into a dialogue with the narrator. Often keen
questions upset the routine of superstition. In Turfan exists
a curious custom of sending young men with an experienced
guide in the guise of a story-teller through the whole country,
even to Mecca. Thus is evolving a unique experimental uni-
versity. Through this, one may explain the adaptability of Tur-
fanians.
The gatherings and festivities usually end with a song about
Issa (Jesus):
“As Issa went on his wanderings, he saw a great head. On
the road lay a dead human head. Issa thought that the great
head belonged to a great man. And Issa decided to do good
and to resurrect this great head. And the head covered itself
with skin. And the eyes filled themselves. And there grew a
great body and the blood flowed. And the heart was filled. And
the mighty giant rose and thanked Issa that he resurrected him for
usefulness to humankind.”
There are many legends about the flights of Solomon, and
among the Kalmucks is very widely spread a legend about Jesus
which is nothing else than one of the manuscripts already known
to us, “Issa, the Best of Human Sons.” Of course it has pene-
trated here not from Hemis but from another original source.
Everywhere are spread the signs of beauty. It is time to gather
them fearlessly without superstition.
Again information is given to us about ancient places: About
[243]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
many caves and stupas along Kizil darya. Part of them have
been excavated and part of them are still hidden. Not long ago
on the bazaar they sold “a trunk with antiquities” brought from
Lob (near Lob-nor). There are tales about old cities along the
stream of Tarim or Yarkand darya. There are people who know
these cities. The fossilized bodies in the burial grounds indicate
a very great stature, taller of course than Mongolians. The expe-
ditions which were there, completed the easier and most apparent
part of the work. Now there yet remains the more concealed
work demanding greater construction and preparation.
In Kucha it is already warm. The young grass is getting
green and is two inches high. We learn that from Karashahr to
Urumchi one can go by the mountain road. It will be five days
shorter. In this way, one can avoid the hot site at Tukson,
where there is a descent into the Turfan Oasis (960 feet below
sea level). In the summer in Turfan people bury themselves in
the earth and cannot walk more than one p’o-t’ai. Besides the
approaching heat, there is mud by now, on the great road. It
is better to go through the Kalmuck territory, along the moun-
tain passes.
March igth
Ramsana again took the gun away from the sleeping tseri\
and strolled around the camp. And again the tseri\ bowed to
his feet and asked him to return the gun as otherwise the Amban
would beat him.
They ask on what the comparatively high exchange of the
Chinese currency is based. But all know that it is not guaranteed
by anything and circulates like dry leaves by command of the
Governor. Of course, this is one of the successive misunderstand-
ings and justice will soon clarify it.
Until now in Tibet there exists a custom of specially prose-
cuting gambling houses and brothels. A certain lama called
[244]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
Geko Lama, upon learning of the existence of such houses, takes
a dozen lamas with whips and at the very peak of the orgy
presents himself at the house. And then, there on the spot, all
present are whipped.
Interesting is the Kalmuck song, “Of him who came earlier”:
“One man pondered long and forgot to come to the elections of
a Noyon (prince). Another man did not sleep that night and
came first. And he was selected Noyon, because he entered first.
And so the former who pondered, sits and broods that for him
no place was found in the yurta of the Noyon.”
As in other countries, so here are many marks of treasures.
Often on the rocks one can see tiny projecting piles of stones.
These are the signs of treasures. In the monastery records one
can find directions as to how at certain times of the day, according
to the indications of the shadows, one may go from one pile
to another to the site of the treasure. D. is called Ishan here,
meaning the holy one, for his knowledge of religious subjects.
B. has seen an ancient tomb recently. The tibial bone found
there reached six quarters in length. The spot is in the direc-
tion of Lob-nor. B. has marked it. So there are interesting
indications for the future.
March 20th
We bid farewell to the workers’ group at Brenner’s. We
again noticed that wherever there is labor there is joy. P. went
on a troy\a; D. and M. went on horseback to accompany us out
of town. Again questions: Where shall we meet? They will
discuss the newspapers and books we left for a long time. For
our farewell they demonstrated to us the wonderful pace of their
Karashahr horses. “Now you shall encircle a part of the Gobi,”
calls D. We are sinking into the milky desert. A shamal begins.
It fills our eyes. We turn into a yellow mass.
Every day comes new significant information. “The Mon-
[245]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
golian army has reached the river Urungu and threatens Sin-
kiang.” Nobody in Europe and America knows about the affairs
of the local countries.
We are stopping in the village Yaka-arik.
Underground creeks are often used here. This corresponds
fully to the tradition of underground passages, so prevalent in
Asia. Precisely in Central Asia, are interwoven fairy tales and
reality. European measures are not applicable here.
From Peking it was proposed to the Tu-t’u of Sinkiang to
establish an aeroplane communication between Peking and
Urumchi. The Tu-t’u answered that in this province this would
not be practicable, because his people were wild and would flee
to the mountains. Of course the people would not flee; but rumors
of the various ignorant activities of the Governor-General would
spread more quickly. The people would very quickly welcome
these air messengers. The dream of the Orient about the flying
carpets, which the people attribute to Solomon, would be re-
born in their expectation of the iron birds. For in Tibet also
the most ancient prophecies have envisaged iron birds and iron
serpents. There are also, as in traces of the fundamental teach-
ing of Buddha, references to the cosmogonic problems of plan-
etary evolution and of the development of life. As soon as we
began to speak about Buddhism, as of a realistic teaching, the
woman missionary in Kucha hastened to leave us, saying, “The
scriptures of Buddhism are taken from Christianity.” But the
Pillars of Asoka were standing before Christianity and in the
first century before Christ the recording of the covenants of
Gautama was already begun. One has to regard things more
simply and without prejudice.
• • • • •
March 2 1st
Not long ago the travels of Sven Hedin appeared as an un-
precedented heroism; and now E. I. is crossing the same deserts
[246]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
and heights with no thought that it is anything extraordinary.
Now the representatives of Brenner are traversing the same ex-
panses where Sven Hedin, according to his books, almost perished
from lack of water. And soon iron birds will swiftly fly above
these same places. And the fairy tale of the past will be replaced
by the new fairy tale of the cosmos.
Since evening the cicadas have been singing. High stands
the shining moon. There is the fragrance of grass. But at two
o’clock at night the buran struck. Verily struck. It came flying
like a dragon and roared threateningly until morning. The tent
was all aflutter. We had to prepare ourselves in case the tent
should fly away. And in the morning again the pearly Gobi
desert. Mother of pearl and opal and above, dull sapphire. On
the road, in order, is spread out a big caravan. This is Brenner’s
or, as they call it here, Belyan-khan which goes to Tientsin.
Approaching us, tinkling, is a kazan troy\a. Two women and
three Tartar girls from Chuguchak are going to Karaul. We
passed fourteen p’o-t’ai. And we shall stop in the garden of
Yangiabad. The last p’o-t’ai suffocated us again with their deep
sands. Tommy is limping. He has malanders. He will be out
of service for five days. In the evening everything becomes quiet.
The silvery sun sets.
Here we are called Ferengi-Bey. It is our fifth name thus far.
We are trying to find out whether we can avoid Karashahr
and go from Kurat through a Kalmuck encampment, by way of
the monastery Sharasiime on the mountain road to Urumchi.
The Kalmucks, as a nation, have slipped out of attention. It is
instructive to go through their ulus for a week.
The Dungans, or Chinese Moslems, occupy a strange position
in the country. They are frankly disliked by Moslem, Chinese
and Kalmucks. The word “Dungan” itself is pronounced with a
certain contempt. The faces of the Dungans are scarcely attrac-
tive. There is much cruelty in them.
[247]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
We proceed as far as Bogar, a dusty bazaar site. It is divided
into nine p’o-t’ai, but apparently it is more, judging by the time.
Here the p’o-t’ai are counted peculiarly. There are short p’o-t’ai
and long p’o-t’ai. Down a mountain is a long p’o-t’ai, uphill is
a short p’o-t’ai. A strange measure of distance.
First we go by the opal desert. To the left are hills. Three
p’o-t’ai before Bogar one comes upon a swampy oasis. On the
road is mud. Big flocks of ducks and geese are on the wing.
The hoopoes are strutting about in a most pompous way. They
say of them: “These are former men.” The end of the road is
enveloped in clouds of dust.
A dusty garden. On the fence is sitting the son of the Amban.
Politely Sung persuades him “It is not good to sit on a fence.”
But nothing helps, and Sung applies the customary means here
and throws a stone. The boy disappears.
From all sides you hear the same remarks about the inaccuracy
of existing maps. In some are omitted important sites and details.
It is necessary to examine the transcription of the name. In some
are introduced non-existing names. In some they are taken from
the Turki, from the Chinese, and in others, from some kind of
local jargon which is not recognized anywhere. Even in the
staff maps there are a great many errors which promise one much
trouble on the route.
• a • • •
March 23rd
Was not Tamerlane a great disinfector? He destroyed many
cities. We know what it means to destroy little clay cities full
of all sorts of contagion. Here we have passed twelve cities.
What can be done with them? For the people’s welfare, one
ought to burn them and plan new villages beside them. While
the old is in its final decay — it is difficult to force the natives to
turn toward new places. Here the Tung-ling of Kucha con-
[248]
TAKLA M AK AN— K AR ASH A H R
strutted a new city alongside the old city. Broad streets, under-
ground canals. But the people are afraid of the new place.
We follow a broad plain. We pass Yangizar. We go further
through a dusty forest. We shall stop behind Chader. It is dark.
We have passed sixteen p’o-t’ai. The caravan is delayed. Sabsa’s
back is swollen. Mastan and Olla are keeping up remarkably.
Nobody knows distances. The caravan arrives at one at night.
March 24th
A tiring day. It is hot. We are passing by a dusty forest and
low shrubs. Up to Chirchi it is twelve p’o-t’ai. We pass a big
caravan of Belyankhan. In Chirchi stands another caravan of
the same firm. The pioneers of America are working.
To-day is the day of our institutions in America! The day
of the founders. We are sending our thoughts to America, to the
house of the Museum and the school, where the day is being
observed. Our dear friends, it is as if we were present at your
annual meeting. The distance does not exist. Traversing these
spaces we recall the plains of the Mississippi and Missouri and
the immeasurable steppes of Russia. We are even rejoicing at
the caravan of Belyankhan. This is already cooperation with
Asia: As though both continents, divided by a cosmic catas-
trophe, remembered their former unity. How much of Mon-
golian there is in the types of the later Mayans and the red-skinned
Indians! How much equal breadth there is in America and
in Asia. And now in its moment of regeneration, Asia remem-
bers its distant ties. Greetings to America!
March 25th
They show us another species of monetary symbols — some sort
of greasy little rag and a dirty little bone. This is the situation
of the local currency: Lans (or sar or teza ) are equal to 400
de\hans. But a Kashgar lan is equal to three Urumchi lans and
[249]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
an Urumchi lan is equal to three Kuldja Ians. A Khotan lan is
considered 800 dehjians. You will say it is nonsense. I agree
with you. But because of this nonsense, millions of people are
suffering. Can such differences in standards of money existing
in one province be further complicated by wooden and rag signs ?
This is the reason that people ask why the value of Chinese
currency has stood so high until now.
Nowhere are objects of antiquity to be found. Apparently the
accessible upper layer of discoveries has already been exported to
Europe and as for the hidden layers, let them remain for Asia
itself. The dignity of the countries demand that they should
wisely dispose of their true resources. But so far the Ambans
are disposing of the people’s treasures for their own benefit. The
Amban of Yangi Hissar (designated as Consul to Andijan) lost
many thousands of Ians at cards. Now he has especially increased
the taxes without limit and will not leave for his new position
until he regains his loss.
Twelve more p’o-t’ai through the desert with small brush.
We reach Tim. In the morning it is still cool, but by midday
the sun is already burning. The caravans begin to travel by night
as during the summer. Again tales about the heat of Turfan
where in summer they bake little cakes on the stones under the
sun. It is said, “There are many underground springs here,
and also many underground passages.” In the past they once
tortured a holy man and he hid himself in a subterranean passage
and came out after six months of wandering.
And another thing happened long ago: “Some people went in
search of God in Barkul. They came to a king who considered
himself a god. He sat and read a book and his cat held a candle
before him. The pilgrims decided to test whether the king really
was a god. They argued, ‘If we let loose a mouse, will the
king’s shrewd cat run after it? If the king is a god then his
power should stop the cat.’ Thereupon they let a mouse loose,
[250]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
and the king’s cat ran away and threw down the candle. The
people now saw that the king was not a god.
“They went further. They met a shepherd who gave them
bread and asked if he could be their comrade. They took him,
but the shepherd did not wish to take his dog. He said that be-
cause of the animal, people would find them more easily. But the
dog ran after him. The shepherd did not even have pity on him
and killed the dog. Only to seek God!
“They approached a chasm-like crevice in the mountain. And
as they entered, the stone door closed after them. What passed
where the holy people dwell, no one knows. Some time afterward
the shepherd who had been sent for something came out; he
came to the city to buy bread at the bazaar. He offered them
money, but the people were astonished at the coming of the giant
and they refused to take his money, saying that for 2,000 years
such money had not been current. The shepherd quickly returned
to the mountain and the king of the place hurried after him in
order to investigate this wonder. But apparently the holy people
have no need for kings, for the mountain closed. Nor could it be
opened either by tempest or by prayer. The king brought his
entire army but much as they labored at this mountain, and
though they all perished in the attempt, the mountain did not
open. And near this mountain is the tomb of the king. Such
deeds there were and such underground passages there are.”
A young Baksha overtakes us on horseback. He sings fairy
tales and tells legends, and he “conjures devils” — “Baksha, sing
the tale of Shabistan!” He takes out from behind his back a
long-stringed gejac\. He sings as he rides. He plays. The
strings sound well. And somehow one forgets the dry sands
and the hot sun. Two melodies resound. Now the higher one
dominates, as if in supplication or command; again the lower
thunders out its victorious affirmation.
Then the Baksha takes the tambourine and fills the desert
[251]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
with widely varied rhythms. We rejoice that on the last day in
the country of the Sarts, we are accompanied by the song and
melodies of the Baksha Sart. To-morrow we shall reach the
ulus of the Kalmucks.
At the left, to the north, out of the fog looms the ridge of T’ian
Shan. Behind it are the Kalmucks and beyond it Semirechye.
At the entrance to Tim, is a great ancient stupa and ruins of old
structures, banners of Buddhism. It is said that the mountain
where Buddha was initiated was all aflame. But after the prayer
of the Blessed One, snow fell and extinguished the fire. Ice
and snow now encircle this mountain and it is difficult to find
it until the predestined date.
A quiet warm evening, a milky spring sky. If one only could
reach an encampment of the Kalmuck Khan without entering
Karashahr and go there, by monasteries and mountains, to Urum-
chi! We are awaiting the Kalmucks. This is significant.
March 26th
A fair, beautiful day. First from the north, rose the range of
T’ian Shan. All sapphire and amethyst. Then we crossed a row
of fine sand formations. From below the hill flashed a blue
mountain river. A powerful and overflowing one. We followed
the river. In front of us, closed gates — the custom house. The
boundary of Kalmuck soil. The first Kalmucks appear. George
tries his Mongolian on them. They understand each other. We
stop in a langar, not far from Mingoi Saur (thousand ruins).
The ruins are enveloped in a legend that a lama saw a light at a
certain place. The people dug. They reached water and there
appeared a water-serpent.
There is a belief that on these sites stood a large monastery
containing the chalice of Buddha, which disappeared from Pe-
shawar, and which is mentioned by Fa-hsien in Karashahr.
Now we are stopping by the river, near strata of coal. This is
[252]
TAKLA MAKAN — KARASHAHR
the first day without dust — again mountain air. The first tree is
in blossom. The Kalmuck soil smiles. It is as though we were
now walking around its borders. At night a full moon shines.
Behind the river glow the shepherds’ bonfires.
We recall the hopes of the Kalmucks. We recall how Chuntse,
the first one, told us about Toin Lama. Later there came full in-
formation as to what this Torgut leader can achieve if he is able
to accept what is sent to him. And should he fail to accept it —
then a long farewell to Dzungaria! Of what avail to speak if
one’s palm is full of holes. . . .
March 27th
The crossing to Karashahr (or Karachahr, or Karachar). Soon
the mountains recede and the river disappears toward the south.
Again a dusty and famished desert. Again a village road, in-
stead of a broad Chinese highway. On the surface is a great
deal of inflammable clay slate. There is coal in the mountains.
In a whirl of dust we reach the river opposite Karashahr. The
crossing is on primitive rafts. Such crossings there were on the
small tributaries of the Volga. A multi-colored crowd; piles of
balls; carts, mules, camels and horses. And again, in the city
itself, there is nothing Buddhist. Still Sarts and Chinese. One
seldom sees the faces of Kalmucks, marked as they are by greater
keenness and alertness.
S., a representative of Belyankhan, meets us. He praises the
Kalmucks.
We have to change servants. Our terrorizing Gorban, of whom
everybody is afraid, happens to be very timorous himself. He is
afraid of Chinese and of Kalmucks and trembles for his miser-
able rupees. Sarts are apparently afraid of Kalmucks and Mon-
gols. They fear their keenness. We shall have to fill in the loss
of Sarts in the caravan by Kalmucks. How illuminating it is to
observe this nation which may now enter the pages of history.
[253 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
How refreshing it is to penetrate again into the mountains and
to leave the sands and the dust. Even the horses shake them-
selves when they approach fresh water and mountains. At the
sight of mountains our Tibetans, Tsering and Ramsana, fairly
leap with joy.
Smile, Kalmuck soil. The Series “Asurgina and Orovani”
is conceived.
[254]
Part IX
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
(1926)
March 2 8th
Karashahr, in translation, means Black City. The Chinese call
Urumchi the Red Temple (Hung-Miao-Tzi).
On this expanse are the countries of the Torguts and Khoshuts.
Strange is the destiny of the Kalmucks. The nation is dispersed
in an inexplicable manner. In Chinese Sinkiang, the Olets oc-
cupy the Iliisk district; the Torguts, Karashahr; the Khoshuts,
Dzungaria; the Oirots, Mongolia; the Damsok are in Tibet.
Besides these there are Kalmuck ulus, scattered in Caucasia, Altai,
Semirechye, Astrakhan, along the Don, and near Orenburg.
Near the holy mountain Sabur stand the remains of the city of the
Kalmuck King, Aisha. In the scattered yurtas begin to appear
the signs of self-consciousness. The prophecies of the forefathers
tell of the coming dates.
A dispute between a Sart Bey and the Kalmuck. The Sart
says provokingly: “You have no god.” The Kalmuck answers,
calmly: “If a Sart comes among us we feed him and give him
drink, and we feed his horse and give him provisions on his
journey. But if a Kalmuck comes to the Sart, he is not given
food and his horse remains hungry. Judge for yourself, who
possesses the essential. The Sarts defile the Buddhist teaching
and mock the Buddhist images but the Kalmucks say, ‘We re-
vere your inscriptions.’ But you have no images because when
the first images were bestowed, you were far distant and could
not perceive them.”
[255]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
It is difficult to dispute with Buddhists. Those who know the
teaching can tell so much of the evolution of life; they speak
about the messengers from Shambhala who go forth on earth, in
various guises, for the help of mankind. Unprejudiced, they
speak of the new social movements, recalling the commands of
Gautama himself. But if we eliminate from these tales the styli-
zation of language and images we encounter a teaching based
on the true knowledge of evolution far ahead of its epoch.
S. praises the Kalmucks for the steadfastness of their word:
“One does not need written agreements. It is not as with the
Sarts, especially the beks and beys.”
We encounter a few beautiful Karashahr horses. This is the
identical breed which one sees on ancient miniatures and on
the statuettes of old China. Some scientists considered this breed
extinct. But here it is before us, vigorous, dark-bay, firm in gait.
It would be good for other countries to examine this breed.
To-morrow we will go to the encampment of the Kalmuck
Khan.
Hardly has evening fallen before a new Sinkiang villainy occurs.
S. arrives in great excitement and says that the Amban will not
permit us to go by the short road and orders us to continue our
route through the sands and heat of Toksun, the long and weari-
some highway. An added insult, an added imposition, an added
derision of the artist and the man. Is it possible that we cannot
see the monasteries? Is it possible that an artist must go only
by way of the dry sands ? We hurry to the Taotai. The old man
pretends to be indisposed and cannot receive us. His secretary
shouts from the balcony that we can go, that the Amban will
arrange all that is necessary. We go to the Amban. He is not
at home. His secretary says that the Amban “fears for us on
account of the great snows on the mountain pass.” We explain
that there is now no longer any snow, that we do not have to
[256]
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
go by way of high Teke-davan, that we will go through Sumun-
davan, which is lower.
At seven o’clock they promise to bring us the answer. Of
course the snow of the Amban is by no means of a white color.
These Chinese are capable of ruining each day. These Chinese
are capable of transforming each day into a prison and a torture.
We await the evening and nevertheless prepare to depart. There
come Torguts, returning from Kobdo.
A Khoshut lama comes. He asks us to heal his eyes. He brings
us valuable tales. Not fairy tales but facts. Facts are needed.
The lama from Uliasutai has written a book about the approach
of the time of Shambhala.
In the evening the answer comes. The nephew of the Taotai
and the postmaster bring it. Of course the answer is negative.
In spite of the heat, of the humidity and dust, we must go by
the long way, through hot Toksun. E. I. says she will die from
the heat, but the Chinese smile and notify us that their Governor
has a very small heart. We compose this telegram to the Gov-
ernor-General :
Please wire instructions to the Magistrate at Karashahr
to allow Roerich Expedition to proceed to Urumchi by
mountain way. Health of Mrs. Roerich does not allow
her to continue journey through the hot sandy desert
of the long road. The mountain road permits to reach
Urumchi much sooner.
Until the arrival of an answer we shall go to the encampment
of the Torgut Khan and the monastery Sharasiime.
The sense of surveillance and compulsion is abominable. What
work can be accomplished when behind one’s back stands the
order of the Amban and when the Governor-General has a “very
[257]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
small heart” ? One’s whole mood is spoiled and we are waiting
again as though in some medieval Chinese dungeon.
March 29th
We arise with the dawn. All our men hasten to leave earlier
in order that the Chinese may not have time to invent new
difficulties. S. accompanies us for a long distance. In a broad-
brimmed hat and in a yellow, old military coat, he sits well-
poised on his ambling horse as if he came from a New Mexican
ranch. We go by the yellow steppe; high grass. The sun is
burning hot. To the north is again a vague silhouette of moun-
tains; separate great yurtas; herds of camels. The riders wear
round caps of Tibetan cut. After nine p’o-t’ai we arrive at the
encampment. The bazaar is cleaner than the cities of the Sarts.
The white buildings of the post shine in the sun. The walls,
the yards, the walks, are broadly constructed. They lead us
through a broad yard into a big room. White walls, black
Chinese furniture, bearskins. We drink tea. They bring a card
from the Gegen-regent (the Khan being a minor). This is the
same reincarnated Sengchen Lama whom we mentioned in the
Sikhim notes. To-morrow we shall see him. We shall stop in
the field behind the encampment opposite the mountains.
A wonderful sensation. Kalmucks come and are speaking
to our lama. The Kalmucks ask whether we have pieces of
magnet. They ask about Tibet, about Mongolia, all this very
carefully, until they know with certainty who we are. The
women are in very beautiful, well-fitting attire. Behind the
wall a military trumpet resounds — these are the Cossacks of
Toin-Lama, the Gegan ruler. He has two hundred Kalmuck
riders, who are taught the Cossack formation.
March 30th
A clear morning. Purple mountains. It will be hot. The
[258]
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
distinctness of the mountains and buildings reminds me some-
what of Ladak. One might have rejoiced had there not occurred
a Chinese villainy in the guise of a guard, who came with the
insolent announcement that we must not remain here too long,
and that it would be better to await the command of the Tu-t’u
in Karashahr — in the middle of manured fields, dust and suffo-
cating heat. Verily, one may choke from all the proposals of the
Chinese. Now even the escorting soldiers have begun to repri-
mand us. They ought rather to guard our seized arms, which
were thrown on the field without any watch. At ten o’clock
we go to Toin-Lama, a friendly man, small in stature. Although
according to custom the face of Toin-Lama is impenetrable,
nevertheless, upon hearing the tales about temples in Sikhim and
Little Tibet he becomes animated and wishes us all success. He
stands as he listens to the message, but fear of the Chinese con-
geals the tongue of Toin-Lama. He mumbles: “When the time
comes.” But the time has come! Every one measures for him-
self. . . .
The house of the prince is white and clean and spacious. In
the yards stand yurtas with golden cupolas. Dented walls. Ban-
ners. Some faces smiling, and some gloomy. One can under-
stand how strong is Sinkiang oppression. The Sinkiang dragon
coils around the semi-independence of the Kalmucks. But the
mountains and the white walls are so joyous! Not even three
hours pass without Chinese treachery. A whole crowd of “min-
isters” and elders arrives from the Gegen-regent with two Chinese
soldiers. Do we not see that the Amban of Karashahr com-
mands us to return to Karashahr immediately P All this is told
to us at length and firmly, but there is no letter with it. We
say that we intend to leave Sinkiang as quickly as possible, but
that we await the answer from the Tu-t’u. And here we sit
again in inactivity and await a telegram from Urumchi, without
any assurance that our telegram was sent at all. It is impossible
[259]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
to work because even without moving we call forth persecution.
Meanwhile the soldier goes to the bazaar and entrusts his gun
to Suleiman. And so the soldier’s gun is being entrusted to
our groom and our arms are left sealed in the fields. In fine,
where is logic, where is reason?
After three hours a buran starts. The mountains disappear.
Friends, you will think that I am exaggerating somewhat. If
anything, I should be glad to understate, but the occurrences
are monstrous. Again a crowd of Kalmucks come with Chinese
soldiers and transmit to us the demand that we immediately
depart from the post by command of the Karashahr Taotai.
They are noisy and threaten. It means that one cannot work;
nor can one visit Sharasiime. The whole purpose of the Expe-
dition vanishes. One can only determine to leave Chinese soil
as quickly as possible. Within two hours we go to demand back
our passport and a letter stating the reasons of our expulsion.
They give us the passports with an official letter that the expul-
sion is by command of the Karashahr Taotai, who accuses us
of having made maps. They give us carts in order to send us
away more quickly. I tell them that I am fifty-two years old;
that I was honorably received by twenty-two countries, and that
for the first time in my life I am subjected to expulsion and this
from the territory of the semi-independent Torguts. What kind
of independence? This is nothing but slavery: humiliating
slavery, against all the customs of the East — to cast out a guest!
And where shall we go? To the heat of Toksun? And can
E. I. endure it? Her heart is absolutely unable to bear the heat.
And where is the nearest border in order to hide from the Chinese
torturers ?
A tempest threatens in the mountains.
[ 260 ]
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
March 31st
We slept badly. We arose before dawn. I walk out in the
morning twilight. I meet our lama. He is very upset: “I must
depart at once. They want to arrest us.” — “Who said it?” —
“During the night came a lama whom I know from Tibet;
he says that yesterday the Kalmuck Elders wanted to bind us
all; but they were afraid of the revolvers.” — “Take Olla and the
Kirghiz with you. Gallop through the steppe to Karashahr.
There we shall find you.”
In five minutes the lama and the Kirghiz are already gallop-
ing through the steppe. The carts have come in the meantime.
We start in a hurry to load. Threatened by the Chinese, the
Gegen-regent does not even come to say good-by. More than
once was he held back in Urumchi and now he is even more
afraid. Even for the religious festivals the Chinese only per-
mitted him to leave Urumchi for four days. Although he is
not courageous, still one cannot simply expel guests in order to
please the Chinese. Some riders are encircling us and spying.
Again we go by the same steppe but Karashahr has become
for us truly a black city. In Karashahr we were prohibited from
visiting the Buddhist temple. They doom us to creep along the
hot sands for twelve days and stupidly prohibit us from touch-
ing the beloved mountains. From Karashahr, by reason of the
order of the Tu-t’u, we were again made convicts under sur-
veillance. But on the other hand we know that the poor Gegen
is surrounded by Chinese spies and that often under a Kalmuck’s
kaftan is hidden Chinese identity. We come into the manured
garden where we were before. From the gates they scream at
us “Kapr” (meaning impure, a Moslem greeting). Sung rushes
at the offender with a whip. The usual fight. The Sart runs
away. We go at once to the Amban and on our way take along
the postmaster, who speaks English. The Amban says that ac-
cording to the telegram of Tu-t’u, we must go by the long way
[261 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
through the sands, in spite of the danger to the health of E. I.
Of course we already heard that the Tu-t’u has a “very small
heart.” But, nevertheless, this cruelty astonishes me. The Amban
does not deny that he ordered us to return from the encamp-
ment and that we were prohibited from visiting the Buddhist
temple. We say that in that case we have nothing to do in China
and we ask for a written statement of these prohibitions for
communication to America. The Amban is confused and refers
to the necessity of conferring with the Taotai. Once more it
is confirmed that we are prohibited from visiting the temples and
painting the mountains and that in order to expedite our journey
we are sent on a long road. Where art thou, Confucius ? Where
is thy justice and sagacity?
Tiresome bargaining over the arbas begins. They demand,
as far as Urumchi, 180 Ians, while the usual price is not more
than ninety or a hundred Ians. So we finish the day among
different “friendly greetings.”
Kalmuck soil had smiled to us from afar, but on approach
this was turned into the Sinkiang grimace. We recall the deeply
penetrating Sikhim moods; we recall the grandeur of the
Himalayas. It was not without cause that our hearts ached when
we began to descend from the Karakorum heights toward Takla
Makan. The Kirghiz related how the Torgut Elders held coun-
cil after the receipt of the letter from the Amban: “Should we
bind them? We are many and they are only three.” The
Kirghiz, Salim, is indignant at the Gegan: “This is not a prince;
if he changes his word in an hour, he shall never be a Burkhan.”
And again we see the sympathy of the people and the rancor
of the Elders and beks. The Lama is indignant because of the
conduct of the Kalmucks. All this is illuminating! The former
Kalmuck Khan was poisoned. A wiser counselor was killed.
The Torgut Elders are far from awakening.
[ 262 ]
April i st
Different tales about the Kalmucks. The late Kalmuck Khan,
under pressure or under influence, gave an important mission
to a Chinese. The Chinese hurriedly went to Urumchi in order
to legalize and to ratify the mission. The Kalmucks overtook
him in the mountains and put an end to him together with
his escort, so that not even any traces were found. Because their
Khan was susceptible to such influence, the Kalmucks poisoned
him. As the heir was a minor, the brother of the Khan, Toin-
Lama, became regent. In June of this year, the Toin-Lama will
give over the state seal (tamgha) to the young Khan, and he
himself is going away as an ecclesiastic to the monastery in
Sharasiime. Shall the twelve-year-old Khan reign for long?
Toin-Lama fell into disgrace with the Tu-t’u after he refused
to give his soldiers for the expedition that was sent to kill the
Kashgar Titai. A complete medieval darkness!
The prosperity of the Kalmucks is being crippled because the
taxes are high. Besides the Chinese taxes, they pay the local
Noyon taxes. It is hard for the people. The herds of the simple
people are getting meager; and the Elders, taking their bearing
from Sinkiang, have reached a point where they try to bind
an American Expedition. In Khotan they threatened to expel
us, and in Karashahr they brought the threats into action. We
shall hope that the weather will be less bloodthirsty than the
Tu-t’u of Urumchi, and that it will not suffocate E. I. This
official sends a compilation of his orders to the British Consul,
also to the British Museum; but it is not the dead pages of his
orders but his actions, which give the image of the man. Only
at first hand is it possible to see the true image of the govern-
ment of Sinkiang. It is not for nothing that the best Chinese
are calling the Sinkiang government, “Sinkiang Company.” And
until you see it on this site, you will not be able to believe in
such human deterioration. Of course the Tu-t’u is old and will
[263]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
die soon and he cannot take with him to his grave the pilfered
goods. But who will be the one to clean these Augean stables?
Verily I should much rather paint than depict these harmful,
malevolent evils. But apparently it has to be so. Probably for
some this will be useful. America awaits my paintings of the
Buddhist heights, but let the Chinese government explain why
we were not permitted to go to the monasteries. In Sikhim
they met us with trumpets and banners; but on Chinese soil,
with ropes. Of course, the Amban of Karashahr did not give
me any letter. Well, it is not necessary. We have a letter with
the seal of the Kalmuck Khan which clearly indicates the order
of the Chinese officials. Quicker, away from the Chinese threat!
Before us are the islands of Japan: before us the dreams, long-
existing, to see the Easter Islands with their mysterious stone
giants.
Soldiers were not sent to-day at all and so our confiscated arms
have to guard themselves. The evening is ended with the tedious
procedure of granting leave to three hostlers who are going
away to Ladak. The young Tibetan, Tsering, wants to go with
us. He does not love his stepmother, and he says that his father
has become a sti anger to him and he wants to go far away
with us. The young soul is knocking at the window of new
possibilities. How can one not take him?
April 2nd
The morning begins with the drama of Tsering. His Ladaki
father, misinformed by the malicious grooms, forbids Tsering
to go with us. If he does, he says, he will break his legs and
arms. You should have seen the tears of Tsering. All trembling
and swallowing his tears, he bids us farewell. What right do
people have to deprive one of his happiness? In his desire was
so much striving toward light. And now Tsering again will have
senselessly to march with donkeys along the dry sands, serving
[264]
From a painting by Nicholas Roerich Roerich Museum, N. Y.
TIBETAN WOMAN
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
ignorance. Poor boy! Sometimes we wonder if he is not going
to run away. Of course this is difficult because the malicious
old man and the no less malicious hostler will watch him.
Since seven o’clock we have been busy with the arbas and
caravan. We are writing contracts. We are protesting on account
of the unfitness of the horses and the soldiers who were sent.
The delay makes us indignant. An American would be driven
distracted by such a tempo. When will these people awaken?
At the same time comes interesting information. The Chinese
are taking vaccine against smallpox, not from calves but from
people, and so they are contaminating people with syphilis and
other diseases.
The Mongols have occupied the frontier from Sharasume and
are within a hundred miles from Ku-ch’eng or, about 300 miles
from Urumchi — from the residence of the Governor-General.
If one draws a line from Kuldja to Ku-ch’eng, the Tu-t’u will
find himself in a sack. Incidentally, the illustrious Tu-t’u has
erected for himself a monument in Urumchi. Will not the
Mongols remove it?
We are marching only four p’o-t’ai. Instead of mountains,
instead of monasteries, instead of Maitreya — again yellow steppes
around us. What right do the Chinese have to deprive us of
seeing beauty? The departure of the three hostlers somehow
refreshed the caravan. For some reason the people are joyous.
Ramsana expects Tsering and assures us that he will come run-
ning to us to-day or to-morrow.
April yd
It is very cold during the night and hot at midday. Yellow
steppe. A dusty stony road. Northward is a range of foggy
mountains. We reach the dirty little village of Ushaktal. Again
we have to stop near cattle yards. Indiscriminating are all
Taotais, Titais, Ambans, T’ung-lings, who for centuries have
[265]
ALTAI-HIM ALA YA
been stopping overnight at the same miserable inns. From this
little village goes the Koshut road to Urumchi. Along the
Khoshut road it is only four days to Urumchi but by order of
the Governor-General, we have to go by the long dusty, hot
‘ and ugly road for eight whole days. This is Chinese cruelty, to
force travelers to go in the dust and suffocating heat and to
know that alongside this there goes a short road full of moun-
tain beauty. It is significant that not one of the Taotais and
Ambans whom we saw could mention to us any celebrated con-
temporary Chinese artist or scientist.
You may imagine our feeling when we saw the canyon through
which the short road passes, and we ourselves had to crawl in
clouds of hot dust!
Again a variation of the legend about Turf an: “From a cave
came out a tall man and went to the bazaar to buy something.
He offered to pay for his purchases with gold coins which were
a thousand years old. Then the man went back into the same
cave and disappeared. And at the entrance was standing a stone
dog. The dog wanted to jump into the cave after the man
but he became petrified.”
Ushaktal is the center for Khoshut horses. They are larger
than those of the Torguts. At a distance of one p’o-t’ai from
Ushoktal are traces of an old fortress of the times of the conquest
of Andijan and Fergana. Many mosquitoes. Wild geese.
April 4th
“The old Khan decided to hand over to his sons the tamgas
(seals) that they should rule the Khoshuns. There were tamgas
of gold, silver, copper and one of wood. The Khan’s wife told
her favorite son: ‘My boy, take the wooden tamga. Don’t take
the gold ones!’ The Khans began to choose the tamgas and
the old Khan said, ‘The sky has created water. Let us test the
tamgas with water. The one tamga which shall be higher shall
[266]
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
remain higher.’ And the wooden tamga remained on the surface
of the water, but the gold and silver sank underneath the water.”
On the black Irtish are many gold prospectors, tens of thou-
sands of them. The gold is only slightly under the soil. The
Tu-t’u sent soldiers to detain the seekers, but on reaching the
gold the entire troop disappeared.
To-day is a beautiful day. From all sides appear mountains —
blue, sapphire, purple, yellow and reddish brown. Gray sky and
pearly vistas. Alongside the bed of a broad current we reach
Kara-Kizil. It means black-red. The name is correctly given
because the mountains are of coarse granite, black and red. The
silence of the desert. How much more agreeable are these isolated
langars than the cities and dirty bazaars!
And only to think that we could have gone for four days
through solitary mountains, amidst far-off snows! To-day ap-
peared the first small pine. The whole day, for seventy-four
miles, there was only one small latigar, with a bad well, a hun-
dred feet in depth. For the whole day only two small caravans
of emaciated mules. It is as if one did not go by a big Chinese
road but through a new undiscovered country. From the moun-
tains protrude layers of black slate and coal formations. And the
whole desert holds its breath awaiting the steps of the future.
o • • • •
April $th
It is simply a torture with the tseri\. He goes to sleep in an
arba and he fails to guard not only our arms but even his own
gun. During the night the servants of some passing Amban
wanted to put our horses out of the langar.
And the mountains are so beautiful ! They stand, dark bronze,
with greenish and carmine spots. Behind the mountains again
lies the desert, with dark shingled slopes strewn with light-yellow
bushes. A whole carpet of Asia.
During the day it is hot. An eastern wind brings some relief.
[267]
ALTAI-HIMAL A YA
We passed nine p’o-t’ai to the poor village Kumash. A pilfered
and disrupted village. Two tumble-down and uninhabited
langars. At one time there was something here. E. I. asks,
“But Ambans and Taotais are traveling here. Is it possible that
they are stopping in such dirt?” Suleiman laughs, “What does
it matter to these Ambans? If they only have an opium pipe
and a woman! They roll in any dirt!” Apparently, respect to
the officials is not very great. Through travelers from Khotan
a vague report penetrates about the replacing of Taotai Ma.
The Bar\hans are silent. The mountains are hidden in blue
mist. We are reminded of a characteristic case: The travelers
from China to Tibet relate how a nurse with a child was left
on the border as customs inspector. It happened that the border
official smoked much opium and his wife was so busy in the
household, that the nurse had to fulfill the duties of a customs
official. This was printed in the Shanghai papers. Last year
Kalmuck pilgrims were prohibited from going to Tibet to wor-
ship in the sanctuaries. Such prohibition is very significant.
Already to-day the Chinese torture begins. The heat which
we would have avoided on the Koshut mountain path has begun.
It is now very early spring. They say the snow in Urumchi has
already melted. In the evening we reprimanded Suleiman for
his habit of letting his whips pass over human backs. He is
astonished: “How shall I deal otherwise with a Dungan or
Chinese? Does he understand reason? Either he takes you or
you take him. Why do you think that the Dungan mafakesh
went so quickly yesterday ? Because from early morning we gave
him a good kick. But to-day he probably will come late.” And
in such manner are they living here — a whole chain of evil.
• • • • •
April 6th
A hot day. First the desert with many mounds and rocks
surrounding it. After passing eight p’o-t’ai we entered a beau-
[268]
KARASHAHR — DZUNGARIA
tiful gorge. We went through it for several p’o-t’ai. Bluish-
black bronze rocks, all-creviced. Complete lack of water. De-
stroyed langars on the way. Probably the water disappeared
and the people were forced to migrate. During the entire day we
saw only one caravan of mules and two riders. The greatest road
is truly nothing but a stony desert. From seven in the morning
until half past four, no life is seen on the road. If we had gone by
the mountain path, we would be in Urumchi to-morrow. We
stay over night in Argai Bulak. An isolated latigar amid bronze
mountains. They say that here was also war with Andijan.
High in the sandy rock is seen a cave. The trails to it are entirely
crumbled.
• • • • •
April 7th
On account of the inhuman Governor-General we are com-
pelled to proceed through the hot gorge. Varied sand forma-
tions; all is much more beautiful in Ladak. Amidst the sands
a vivid green strip of grass is suddenly seen. It means that
from the rock, unsuspected, is flowing a spring of ringing water
which spreads over the sand. To be sure, one could easily gather
the precious fluid into a constructed canal ; one could easily repair
the stony road; but of course the improvment of the country
does not enter into the schedule of occupations of the Chinese
administration. . After a small crossing we enter the burning
plain. E. I., stifling from the heat, says, “This is not a governor
but an old monster!” Really to compel foreigners to take four
extra days of burning road — it is stupid and inhuman. It is just
the same as to say to an American: “You can go from New
York to Chicago but only via New Orleans.” Amidst sands,
amidst the milky mists, glows azure Toksun. Only one day’s
distance is Turfan and out of its nine-hundred-foot pit rises the
heat. One can imagine how easily in summer even the natives
die from heat in Turfan.
[269]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
In Toksun the trees are already vividly green. A thick verdure
springs up from the furrows. We are standing on the shore of a
river dividing into many tributaries. ... If only there would
not be dissension again! To-day the dawn started with an
ugly fight. Suleiman battered up Sung and the latter came
running to us all covered with blood. It is necessary for us to
get rid of Suleiman quickly. This brute does not understand
reason. And his persecution is chiefly directed against Sung only
because he does not steal. But at the base of all this, the Tu-t’u
himself is responsible for all the fighting — he who has confiscated
our arms and who has ordered them carried sealed as a demon-
stration to the whole province. If we had the revolvers the men
would conduct themselves differently. It is hot; even at five
o’clock the heat does not diminish and the night brings no cool-
ness into the tents.
Toward evening they bring the horses to the river. They walk
them up and down before us. Will we not buy? The price
is from 300 to 1,000 Ians. A beautiful light-bay horse. On the
back is a black stripe. The posture of the head reminds us of a
zebra of kulan. Is there not in the species of Karashahr horses,
a cross with the kulan?
At twilight the Dungan Chinese doctor comes. He speaks
Russian. How is that? It appears that his wife is a Russian
Cossack woman from Semirechye. And here she herself is com-
ing, in pink trousers and a blouse; and with her is a dark little
girl. And under the stars of Toksun rings out the soft complaint
of her life. From her thirteenth year her family sold her to
Dungans. She ran away. There came the revolution. Her
relatives disappeared. Came famine. And now the Cossack
woman appears in a Chinese attire. “I am weary ; I have nothing
to speak about with them. They are dirty. And now we are
anxious again to go to my country. My husband wants to be
there. I bought for myself a little girl, a Sart. I paid twelve
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Ians for her. I made for myself a kind of tent out of linen and
put it in the room in order to cover their dirt. In Urumchi many
of our Cossack women, because of need, have married Chinese.
The educated ones and good dressmakers married Dungans.
“Here are many scorpions. Beware at night. Turfan and
Toksun are notorious for their scorpions. A little one bit me —
I screamed with pain for three hours. Then they tightly tied
a string around my finger and applied opium. Be careful.”
The Cossack-Dungan woman goes into the dusk with the
husband foreign-to-her and with the purchased little girl, whom
she calls Eudoxia. And so the Tu-t’u sent us not only into a
furnace but also into the city of scorpions.
It is hot at night. The grasshoppers chirp ceaselessly. George
is astonished that until now human beings are sold. And this
goes on openly and businesslike. Maybe in the list of the com-
mands of the Tu-t’u, presented by him to the British Museum,
there is a flowery command about the sale of human beings.
• • • • •
April 8th
Because of the cruelty of the Governor-General we spent a
horrible day. We dragged ourselves through the burning stony
desert. On the horizon the hot air is all a-quiver. The far-off
inexistent lakes become dense and the mirages melt and are
transformed into a gray pitiless plain. The far-off mountains
merge into the heat. Only to think that we might, by now, have
been in Urumchi. We would have already read news from
America. But because of the despotism of a monster we have
to tramp needlessly over the foothills for three more days. We
shall stop in the langar of Pasha Tsaigan.
On our way, we have been thinking: The Europeans are not
justified in destroying the monumental conceptions of the Near
and Far East. Here we have seen caves pilfered and stripped.
But when the time of the regeneration of Asia shall come, will
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
she not ask, “Where are our best treasures, which were con-
structed by the creative spirit of our ancestors?” Would it not
have been better, in the name of knowledge, to study all these
monuments, carefully retain them and create conditions fostering
preservation? Instead of this, fragments of frescoes were taken
away, only to perish because of change of climate. In Berlin,
whole cases of frescoes were destroyed by rats. In some countries
parts of the monumental constructions are piled up in the
museums with no indication as to their original purpose and
meaning. Our friend Pelliot is right not to destroy these monu-
mental constructions, but to study them and publish his re-
searches about them. Let individual works of art move freely
on our planet, but the deeply conceived composition of construc-
tion must not be destroyed. The result is that the head of a
Bodhisattva is in Europe and its painted boots are in Asia. Where
then is the disinterested knowledge which first of all purifies
and preserves and restores? What would the world of learning
say if fragments of the frescoes of Gozzoli or Mantegna were
to be scattered in different countries? Soon over the whole
world speedy steel birds will fly. All distances will be within
reach, and not ragged skeletons but evidences of a high creation
must meet these winged guests.
During the whole of to-day we saw only one small caravan
of mules and only one rider. The dead silence of the great road
is comparable only to the lethargy of contemporary China. Youth
will come and the deserts will flourish.
In the ya\htans the candles have melted; the yellow sun hides
behind the amber mountains. To-morrow should be cooler —
we shall go beyond the mountains into the first zone of the Altai
climate.
• • « • •
April gth
We are passing the last ridges of the Heavenly Mountains of
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T’ian Shan. We pass beside the route to Turfan. On the cross-
road is an old Chinese stela with half-erased inscriptions and
ornaments. There, long since, in the depths of the centuries,
some one sought to preserve with care the signs and milestones.
Farther on, our road branches — one road goes through the moun-
tain passes and the other along a river with fifteen fordings.
Our people debate a long time, as if the direction of our road
were a state affair. The council has decided to go through the
passes. All this is being discussed so seriously in order that we
should realize the seriousness of the crossing. But the antici-
pations are in vain. Both crossings are very easy and bear no
comparison with Ladak and Karakorum. We descend from the
mountains to a small river. The ruins of an old fort are visible.
Against the dark blue background of the mountains, shines out
unexpectedly a light golden sand peak. We are told: “There
lives a holy man. Formerly he used to show himself to people.
Now no one sees him, but we know he lives there. A kind of
little chapel stands there. But the doors are not seen.” Thus
a legend is being created.
Again we go by a narrow, bumpy village road and no one
can believe that this is the biggest or rather the only artery of a
whole district, which contains the metropolis. It is strange and
even monstrous to see such deterioration of an entire country.
One thing is beautiful — the soft bells of a long row of camels.
These are the true ships of the desert.
We stop in Tapan ch’eng (the city of the Pass). We have
marched eleven hours. E. I. even kissed her little horse. To
Urumchi it is now only twenty-two p’o’t’ai. It is very hot during
the day. The stars twinkle with unusual brightness. For the
first time we heard the gongs of the little Chinese temple.
• • • • •
April io
In the evening a bur an sprang up. We fastened the tents
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down with all our spikes. We heaped the ya\htans around for
weights and we spent the wretched night in the trembling little
house. At two o’clock during the night the gongs sounded in
the temple. But we could not find out what kind of night
service it could be. By morning the shamal became even
stronger. Everything was obscured in a gray-yellow dust. The
mountains disappeared. During the entire crossing we pro-
ceeded against the whistling waves of the whirlwind. On the
approach to the capital of the Tu-t’u, the villages became still
more bedraggled. The road is still worse and the types of Dungans
still more murderous and savage. The difference of prices for
products is incomprehensible. Here ten eggs cost one sar, and
in the next village they are half the price. The same with fuel
and forage.
A gray desert with white layers of salt. The waves of dust
are moving about and the tails of the horses are curling. It is easy
to imagine that the whirlwinds of Asia can overturn a loaded
arba with fifty puds (two thousand pounds) or can stop a troy\a.
They were special difficulties in pitching the tents in the dirty
little village of Ts’ai-o-pu. The tents fluttered in the wind,
everything was atremor and a layer of dust instantly covered
everything. And so we sit, amidst the muffled knocks of the
storm, amidst the layers of sand and dirt. Why did we have
to go through this furious shamal when by now we could have
been three days in Urumchi? Apparently the Tu-t’u wanted
to show us his country in its complete dejection. Our eyes fill
with dust and the sand grits against the teeth. The noise and
the blows of the wind remind us of the tremendous seas vividly
chronicled in the newspapers during our last crossing of the
Atlantic.
Sometimes the formations of the mountains particularly sug-
gest the fusion of multi-colored fluids, and often the desert
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thunders with the chords of the ocean. The shamal does not
stop by evening as our caravaneers hoped.
April nth
This story is told in explanation of the gales: “The Chinese
army was pursuing a Kalmuck giant. The giant was strong.
He evoked the gale to his aid from the mountains and he him-
self galloped away. And the gale scattered the Chinese forces.
But as there was no one to conjure the gale, so it has remained.”
To-day part of the horizon has cleared. The faint outlines
of mountains glimmer with their snowy crests. Steely lakes
gleam below, surrounded by white borders of salt. The gale
continues. It has become freezing during the night. Instead
of the shamal it is now a freezing Siberian siver\o, which
pinches the cheeks and makes the eyes water. We take out our
fur coats. Apparently we have to experience all the peculiarities
of the local climate. The desert has changed into naked, grayish-
yellow, silent mounds. The mountains in the distance are azure.
The road is not a short one. Judging by the time it will take,
there are fourteen p’o-t’ai. Far away, between two hills they
point out Urumchi to us.
Before we reach the Chinese city we pass through a former
Russian concession. There is a broad street with low houses of
Russian type. We read the names: “Conditerskaya” (Pastry
Shop); “Yuveleer” (Jeweler); Bardigine Company. . . . The
messenger from the firm of Belyankhan arrives and takes us to
the living quarters which are prepared — a low white house with
two rooms and a foyer. But a difficulty arises: In order to let us
in they would have to dispossess two foreigners — and this is so
distasteful to all. We go to G., the representative of Belyankhan,
to take counsel with him. It appears that everything is com-
pletely filled in Urumchi. There are no houses. We shall have
to stay in yurtas outside the city. It is better. George gallops
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away with G. to find a site for our camp. Some curious people
walk around us and they all insistently want to know who we are,
where we come from, for what purpose and for how long, how
many people are with us, and what is in the cases.
We have dinner with the G’s. The conversation is about our
America, about the life there, about the intensity of work; about
the signs “Keep smiling.” Yes, yes, this sign is also needed.
For dinner at the G’s, there is an entire table filled with for-
eigners. It appears that to-day is an important day. The Tu-t’u
called the Dungans to him and announced to them that he had
no complaint against them. At the beginning of March mobili-
zation took place and it was announced that every one was
called out, but that the Dungans were not needed. The Dungans
were troubled, especially since the Dungan officials had been
discharged from some posts. In the city itself a dangerous band
of Dungans had been operating. Following the mobilization,
about 10,000 soldiers were sent toward Hami.
• • • • •
April 1 2th
Since morning our people have refused to move beyond the
town to the yurtas. They are afraid of being attacked by robbers.
With George we went to C., to Chu-ta-hen, to Fan (who is in
charge of the foreign section) and to the Tu-t’u himself. For
a long time we passed through the Chinese city. Triple walls;
long rows of shops. The products are more varied than in
Kashgar. C. is a sympathetic Italian who is in charge of the post
office. He was astonished at all our experiences, and advised us
to go via Chuguchak, through Siberia, to Japan — the same
way that our friend, Allen Priest, went. Chu-ta-hen is a young
Chinese who speaks several languages. He smiles, and becomes
indignant about the events in Khotan and Karashahr, and assures
us he is ready to help. He takes us to Fan and the Tu-t’u. We
go through all sorts of gates and alleys; we have tea with both
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KARASHAHR — DZUNGARIA
dignitaries, and both offer us much sugar and assure us that
in Khotan and Karashahr mistakes were committed by the
officials; that we are great people and that is why we must pardon
small people. They assure us that a thing of this sort will never
recur, and that we can be absolutely calm, in Urumchi. But as to
any investigation — not a word. We go back through all these
long bazaars. Entire alleys filled with ginghams, hosiery, cheap
crockery and popular pictures. At home E. I. meets us with a
surprise. At the very moment when the Tu-t’u was assuring us
of his friendship and help and good will, our house was being
searched in great detail by the Chief of Police, accompanied
by a Tartar translator. Again E. I. was questioned about our
art works; again the same absurdity was committed from begin-
ning to the end. How can one believe the assurances of the
Tu-t’u ?
After dinner I go to arrange a passage through Altai through
Siberia, just as for Priest. The answer may not arrive before
two weeks. To find better quarters is impossible — all the houses
are crowded. They say that in five days some one is leaving the
city and so we may succeed in moving at least for a short time
into more comfortable lodgings. Keep smiling! Keep smiling!
To-day I spoke to three Chinese higher officials, thus: “I am
fifty-two years old; I have been honorably received in twenty-
three countries. No one in my life ever prohibited me from
working freely on my peaceful art-work. No one in my life has
ever arrested me; no one in my life has ever taken away my
revolver as a means of defense. No one in my life has ever sent
me forcibly in a direction which I did not desire. No one in my
life has convoyed prisoners together with me. No one has ever
treated me as a robber. No one has ever refused to take into
consideration the request of a middle-aged lady based on a
matter of health. But the Chinese officials have done all this.
Now our only desire is to leave as speedily as possible the borders
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of China where they insult so flagrantly the peaceful cultural
expedition of America.”
All this was said. The Governor-General and the Vice-Gov-
ernor do not comment. They give assurances that in Urumchi
no one will touch me. But behind our backs at the same moment
they are making a search and E. I. has, without reason, to open
all cases and trunks. Keep smiling!
April 13th
We search for some sort of suitable house. In Urumchi it is
most difficult. This night they have stolen a horse from G.
During the night a high wall was broken and the horse was taken
out of the stable. The dogs barked. The hostlers slept. The
thieves worked and the horse disappeared. Of course the police
will not find it. But maybe one can buy it back from the local
Kirghiz.
The drums thunder. With red banners, the newly formed
regiment marches. Real ragamuffins. But F. (the director of
the Russo-Asiatic Bank), calms us: “This is nothing. Look at
the soldiers near Hami. Wonderful bands they are!” Keep
smiling!
Smilingly the Chinese tell us: “How interesting it will be for
you to relate in America all your adventures.” A very strange
attitude toward themselves. Also they did not permit Priest to
take photos in Tun-huang. However, in the six volumes of
Pelliot these caves have long ago been reproduced.
F. arrives. He does not know how to return to Shanghai.
It is interesting to hear the tales of those who were trapped in
this way. On the so-called imperial road, it is impossible. While
on his way here, he was arrested, detained, and afterward he
was under the fire of the Hunghutze who are sometimes better
organized than the state troops. He tells of past events in
Siberia. He relates many horrors. G. arrives. New tales about
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the atrocities of the regiment of Anenkoff: How the officer, V.,
hacked to pieces the families of sixteen officers in his regiment,
having first attacked all the women. Where is the image of
humanity ?
• • • • •
April 14th
A vivid day, full of sunshine. The snow on the mountains
of Bogdo-ula is glistening. These are the same mountains beyond
which “live holy people.” One may wonder; has not a site
been reserved for them in Altai ? To-day the holiday of Ramazan
begins. Drums, calls from the mosques and crowds of people.
It would be interesting to examine more closely the psy-
chology of the local officials. Here are the so-called generals and
ministers of finance, of commerce and education. One hopes that
there is no minister of transportation; if so, how could one
account for the exasperating condition of the roads ? How does
the Minister of Education enlighten the people? And where
is this mysterious system of industry? When the Minister of
Industry asked one sick man about the condition of his health,
the latter said: “The same as your industry.” And the Tu-t’u
“modestly” said that the grateful population had erected a monu-
ment to him for the prosperity of the district!
The system of taxation is remarkable. For example, at the
gold mines, taxes are being assessed according to the number
of workmen, quite irrespective of the results of the works. Now
on the Black Irtysh there are 30,000 people excavating. Of course,
all this leads to the depletion of the gold-bearing soil. We move
into the little house near the Russo-Asiatic Bank. Probably we
shall have to stay there two weeks.
• • • • •
April 15th
Tales about the Tu-t’u. The Peking government has many
times tried to replace him but the shrewd Tu-t’u has gathered
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
signatures from the local beys and sent to Peking the “petition
of the population” made up by him saying that only the presence
of Yan the Tu-t’u had guaranteed the peace of the country. But
the peace of the province of the Tu-t’u is the peace of Death.
This administrator affirms that the construction of factories and
the development of manufacture creates a workers’ class and that
is why one must not develop industry and build factories.
In 1913 this administrator suspected his eight relatives of treach-
ery. He therefore arranged a banquet, invited all officials and
during that dinner, with his own hands, shot the chief suspect;
and the guards at the same table made an end to the seven
others. In 1918 the Tu-t’u had a grievance against one of the
Ambans. He sent the disfavored one to Hami and on the way
the Amban was “pasted with paper” and by this unique method
he was strangled. In the “Garden of Tortures” of Mirbeau this
invention of evil was omitted.
Of course the collection of funds for the erection of the monu-
ment for the Tu-t’u was conducted throughout the whole district
by forced subscriptions. And as a gift “from the grateful popula-
tion” appeared an ugly copper figure with gilded epaulettes and
stars. For the improvement of the morale of his officials, the
Tu-t’u prohibits them from subscribing to the foreign as well as
the best Chinese newspapers. It is monstrous to see all these
medieval measures in the days of the evolution of the world. For
a few sensitive young officials, it is very difficult. I remember the
sad smile of the Amban Pan in Aksu. I understand why his only
newspapers were from the postmaster Cavalieri. There is one
hope: the Tu-t’u is very old, and his “benevolent” strangulation of
the huge country cannot continue for long. One should not
forget that the population remembers well those few Chinese
officials who did not pillage and did not manifest their hatred
for humanity. They speak highly of a certain Taotai of
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KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
Chugutchak. They remember well and warmly Pan-Tajen, the
father of our acquaintance from Aksu. When the old Pan-Tajen
was buried, the whole city accompanied the funeral procession.
Unlike the usual custom, the old official did not leave any money
because he did not take any bribes.
To-day is the holiday of Ramazan. The city is attired in vividly
colored dress. The people pay visits to each other. In the morn-
ing about two thousand people listen to the sermon of a Mullah
in the open field. Two Chinese visits — Chu-ta-hen and Fan, with
translators. The young Chu-ta-hen openly sympathizes with us
and his keen eyes can look straight at us. Fan more often averts
his eyes. Now he has the new excuse that all our difficulties
have come from the Peking government which did not notify
Sinkiang about our coming. But from October 12th until to-day
Fan had enough time to get in touch with Peking and there is
no need to blame the fault of Sinkiang on Peking.
April 1 6th
Strange information reached us about the pillage of the fres-
coes of Tun-huang. If this report is true, then such vandalism
has to be investigated as an entirely unlicensed destruction of a
uniquely preserved monument. They say, “Some American”
merchants came, cut out pieces of the frescoes and succeeded in
carrying away “many cases.” It seems that Chinese pursued the
robbers but, as usual, were unsuccessful; and as a result the monu-
ment is defaced. The world of learning should not fail to in-
vestigate the destruction of this unique shrine. Of course, Allen
Priest, who probably was in Tun-huang during the fall may
give authentic and detailed information. We can only set down
this fact for information. How indignant would be Pelliot should
he learn about the destruction of the monument which he studied
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
and wrote about. Here the whole foreign colony knows about
what happened.
Just now a regiment is passing in the street. Is it possible
that this collection of ragamuffins can show resistance to any one ?
The shrewd Tu-t’u is playing on these torn strings. Some-
times he calls into life the Dungans; now the Moslems; again
the Kalmucks and then the Kirghiz. Or he may bring out vari-
colored roosters and announce that he whose roosters will con-
quer, shall be first. And the rooster of a certain color is already
prepared to conquer his rivals, thus accomplishing the desire of
the administrator. Or, also, the administrator may invent a non-
existing plot or a revolt. The slavemaster has much in-
genuity. . . .
We are indignant about the plundering of Tun-huang. The
looting of the mosques of the Trans-Caspian district is also men-
tioned. And in Merv, the Oasis of Anou, valuable mural tiles
are cut out and looted. Damascus is also destroyed. What does
this mean? Is it possible that certain cosmic laws are being
fulfilled. “Those, going toward the abyss, continue the path of
their destiny, in tremor.” So it is said in the teachings of the
wise concerning the fulfillment of dates.
April 17th
During the long travels events are slipping by; only lately we
dreamed of a trip to the Easter Islands, and now they tell us of
the submersion of these islands three years ago. Is it possible
that the giants of Atlantis have forever been merged in the
abysses, and the flow of the cosmos — this Sanrana of Buddhism —
is fulfilling its unalterable course. During the period of our
marches through mountains and deserts, some of the smaller
stars became of first magnitude. And a new island with ten
thousand population sank into the sea. Lakes have dried up and
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KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
new unexpected currents gushed forth. The cosmic energy con-
firms the steps of the evolution of humanity. Yesterday’s “inad-
missible” fairy tale is already being investigated by science. The
refuse is being burned and the ashes are fertilizing the seedlings
of new conquests.
In the silence of the suburb of Urumchi, one speaks in a com-
prehensive way about the tasks of the evolution of humanity,
about the movement of nations, about knowledge, about the
significance of color and sound. ... It is gratifying to listen to
this broad reasoning. . . . Some islands have merged into the
depths and out of the depths have arisen new ones, powerful ones.
April 18th
A journey out of town arranged by Yan Chang Lu and Chu-
ta-hen. We visited the temple “of the god-devil,” with a portrayal
of hell. A poor temple. The images are ugly. Chu assures us
that this is Buddhism but afterwards he himself confesses that
such “popular primitive religion” has nothing in common with
Buddhism. Hell is represented very undecoratively. In an ob-
long space on the floor is arranged a group of shoddy figures,
recently completed: A unique garden of tortures. They are
grinding the sinners with millstones. They are crushing them
with a press covered with nails. They are ripping their abdo-
mens; they are boiling them in tar; they are tearing them apart
with hooks and are injuring the extremities of the sinners by all
the possible measures within the compass of Chinese fantasy.
Especially revolting is the conduct of the righteous ones, who,
self-satisfied and arrogant, watch the tortures from little bridges
and balconies of Paradise. It is not indicated to what section
of hell the Tu-t’u himself will be assigned. All this curio-museum
makes a pitiful and meaningless impression.
Afterward we visit the statue of the Tu-t’u with all its lifeless
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
copper “grandeur”; then the pavilions and the pond which the
Tu-t’u has constructed. Later we ascend a mountain behind the
river, to the Tao temple in which is the god-of-all-gods. On one
side of him is a six-armed god of horses and animals; on the
other side is the god of insects. The impression of the temple is
somewhat better and finer. Probably this is due to its more soli-
tary location on the mountain. From the nearby rock is seen
the whole city and all the surrounding mountains and hills.
This is the most satisfying spot that we have seen in Chinese
Turkestan. After this there remains to be seen the temple of the
god of thunder; it is unattractive and of little interest; and then
tea and a dinner with the tiresome sitting on the floor. The
old Yan Chang Lu very soon becomes intoxicated and his son
sends him home.
A satisfying conversation with B.; the broadness of his views
may well astonish one.
From Bogdo-ula, clouds are rising. It becomes cold toward
evening. We shall have to find time to go to old Urumchi
which is ten versts away. The red temple, after which the new
city is named, is there. Toward evening again a game of pegs.
In the yard is a crowd of people. Swings, exercises, May-poles;
all nationalities; many children. There is also a project to or-
ganize a club. It is simple, human. It is joyous to behold.
• • • • •
April igth
It has become cold. This does not save the god of water from
much discomfort. On account of the drought the Governor-Gen-
eral gave orders that the god of water be taken from the temple,
and that his hands and feet be chopped off. We have read about
savages who whip the gods because of their lack of zeal, but it
appears that these savages live in Urumchi and that their leader
is the Governor-General who considers himself a master of
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Chinese science. But who knows whether the god was simply a
lazy one? Did he not have the hostile intention of stirring up
the people against the Governor-General ? With such a number
of gods one may expect all sorts of alliances of those hostile
to the “government.” The local inhabitants are so accustomed to
such an administrator that the strangest things begin to seem to
them quite natural: One cannot build factories — this is natural.
One cannot prospect for oil — this is natural. One cannot receive
newspapers — this is natural. One cannot have a doctor — this is
natural. Everything becomes natural.
From the mountain crevices curl clouds of smoke — the under-
ground fire of coal is creeping out and the most precious resources
of the country are vanishing.
Toward Ku-ch’eng, in the Valley of Death, lie heaps of bones —
traces of a butchery of many thousands. Most of these dead ruins
stand as witnesses of butchery and treason. But the province is
“calm.” And only the cemetery vies with this great calmness.
How will this calmness of death explode? Who will come?
Whence will he come ? Who will begin the internal revolt ? In
the silence of the cemetery it is difficult to understand which tomb
will be the first.
During the night in the direction of Hami pass bands of raga-
muffins, called soldiers. They say that the Tu-t’u believes that
forcibly gathering the ragamuffins from the bazaars into the bar-
racks frees the city from a dangerous element. But what will be
the fate of these armed gangs and upon whom will they turn
their rusty arms ? A Shanghai newspaper arrives with a descrip-
tion of an assault by Chinese armies on an American mission and
the killing of the missionary. Formerly, this information would
have upset one, but now no one is even astonished. And how
else? They ask us whether we are sure that the Chinese will
give us permission to go to Chuguchak? We answer, “And
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where else will the Chinese put us?” They tell us that every-
thing is possible.” They relate cases of absurd prohibitions and
violence. When we are astonished at the “local affairs” the na-
tives ask us “Is it possible that in America and Europe they do
not know about Sinkiang?” If we had known one-half of the
reality we would never have continued our way through China.
On Bogdo-ula snow fell ; one has to light the stoves.
April 20th
During the night everything became white. It is a long time
since we have seen snow mountains with all their fine crystal-
line lines. Mountains, mountains! what magnetic forces are
concealed within you! What a symbol of quietude is revealed
in every sparkling peak! The legends of the greatest valor are
conceived near mountains. The most human words find outlet
on snowy heights. Toward evening, snow fell also in the val-
leys, and the whole district took on a wintry character. Tsen-
kevich comes. We speak about all the subjects near to us — his
wanderings and adventures; they comprise a complete epic. An
inexpressible charm lies in the fact that people leave their native
places and on invisible wings make the earth small and accessible.
And this accessibility is the beginning of the attainment of far-off
worlds.
• • • • •
April 2 1 st
There is snow since morning. Bogdo-ula appeared all snowy
and blue. It is strange. F. does not believe in the horror of
some quarters in Bombay. He cannot believe that these shameful
cages with women exist. But every chauffeur knows it, and
without any desire on your part takes you to see this hell — is it
for the existence of this, that the earth has endured so many
thousands of years?
M. says, “The Chinese desire to be left in peace.” I agree and
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I always stand for the inviolability of freedom — but then it has
to be fundamental and not hypocritical. The most unpardonable
things on earth are hypocrisy, ignorance and treason.
April 22 nd
By six in the morning all is covered with snow. Along Bogdo-
ula creep billows of milky clouds. . . .
“The old lama went forth to look for Manjushri, the ruler
of wisdom. He walked a long distance and finally he saw a man
who was wringing out skins. Before him stood a little pail with
the water from the skins! Complete dirt. The lama inquired
from the man as to whether he had heard of the path to Man-
jushri. But the man only offered him a drink from the dirty
pail. The lama was dismayed and hastened quickly away. But
he met a clairvoyant lama who reproved him saying, “Stupid
lama; you met Manjushri himself and the very dirt would have
become a beverage of wisdom if you had had the courage to
taste it.” So do they speak of the courage of contact with Matter.
Very significant are the conversations of these days.
The Olets know of the legend about Issa as well as do the
Torguts. The slander against this legend becomes still more in-
comprehensible. Every enlightened lama speaks confidently
about Issa as about any other historical fact.
Highly interesting are the words of At-Tabari about the pro-
phetic mission of Mohammed (“History of Prophets and
Kings”) : “The revelation of the divine messenger began with
impartations of truth, which came to him as the morning glow.
Then he was filled with the desire for solitude and remained in
the cave on Mount Hira. And so to him came the eternal True
One and said ‘Mohammed, thou art god’s messenger.’
“ ‘I knelt,’ God’s messenger says, ‘and I waited. Then I slowly
left. My heart was trembling. I came to Hadija and said to
enwrap me, enwrap me, and my fear left. And He came again
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and said to me: “Mohammed, I am Gabriel, and thou art the
Messenger of God.” . . ”
The exclamation “Enwrap me” gives authentic occult character
to the narrative.
“Varaka the son of Naufal said to Mohammed, ‘This is the
divine revelation which was sent to Moses, the son of Umran.
Would that I might live until the time when thy people shall
expel thee!’ — ‘Shall I be expelled by them?’ Mohammed asked.
‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘Verily never has a man appeared with that
which thou hast appeared, without having aroused hostility
against himself. In truth they shall consider thee a blasphemer.
They shall harass thee, shall exile thee and fight against thee.’
The words of Varaka increased Mohammed’s firmness and dis-
pelled his unrest.”
• • • • •
April 2yd
Again the sun is here. Information comes that the road to
China is absolutely impassable. Every one without exception
speaks of war, speaks of pillage, and of course of the approaching
heat. This path is closed. It is also strange that outside of F.
no one has heard about the exporting of the frescoes from Tun-
huang. Of course Priest must know all about that affair.
What an old hypocrite is the Tu-t’u! It appears that this hypo-
crite even has a school of law in Urumchi. You can imagine what
“law” is being taught there. And by what statutes of this law,
are judged all the robberies and briberies ordered by the officials.
Some say, “One has to study China from the front entrance —
from the ocean.” But it is more enlightening to know the hidden
recesses where nothing is “aired,” for otherwise one could not
see the thousand-year-old atrophy. Of course, the Tu-t’u thinks
that no one will reach him through the desert.
A letter has come unexpectedly from Sikhim, from Colonel
Bailey. They write about the books that were sent to us. But
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KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
the majority of them have never reached us. No news from
America. Probably the letters also disappeared or are being held
back.
What pure air we have to-day!
• • • • •
April 24th
We received an invitation from the Commissioner of Foreign
affairs, Fan, to come for dinner to-morrow. Is this not hypocrisy ?
With one hand to prohibit everything and with the other to
invite us for dinner! If this is “skillful” diplomacy then it is
not at all skillful, because a clever action is judged by results.
And of course a hypocritical dinner cannot improve our relations.
It would be better to give us permission to visit the Buddhist
monasteries. Incidentally, our arms have been taken away and
have not been returned.
The list of guests is a most absurd one: the Catholic mis-
sionary is Dutch; Kalin, a German; Cavalieri, an Italian; Channi-
sheff, a Moslem; and some Chinese. We shall see.
G. tells us about the villages of “Kerjaks” in Mongolian Altai.
These “Kerjaks” — Old Believers — have preserved their own cus-
toms: Their chapels, their readers of the scriptures, their food,
and their complete isolation from “worldly men.” They use
neither vodka nor tobacco. They deal in apiaries and furs, fish
and cattle. In the midst of the Dungans and the Kirghiz stand
their three villages of fifty or sixty houses; and nothing new pene-
trates behind their fences. Probably they keep up relations with
their fellow-believers in the Russian Altai.
And it is strange and wondrous — in the whole district every-
where they are praising Altai. There, the mountains are beautiful,
the cedars are powerful, the rivers are swift and there are hitherto-
unseen flowers. And on the river Katun, it is said, will occur
the last war in the world and afterward peaceful labor.
A year ago an embassy went to Tibet from Mongolia com-
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
prising thirty Mongols and three Russians. On the Tibetan
border twenty Mongols and two Russians died. According to the
report they died of some kind of gases. Of course, something
may have happened in the districts of geysers and old volcanos
or because of winter gales. But the fact is meaningful, especially
because it is difficult to invent such a thing.
April 25th
The fins of sharks, fungi, red and white seaweeds, bamboo
shoots, lotus seeds, pigeon eggs, trepangs, and many other slimy
and slippery dishes. They flavor them with sweet rice and roses.
We finish. In the pavilion of the Governor-General’s garden are
three tables; one entirely of Chinese, the second, entirely Moslem,
where no pork is served. The third, is an international one; there
are represented China, Russia, America, Germany, Holland and
Italy. Fan, the host, does not eat anything himself. He explains
it on the ground of his strict vegetarianism. His seaweedy face
is smiling, probably because he hates all foreigners deeply and is
full of the subtlest hypocrisy. Is it possible that Fan thinks that
this absurd dinner washes away every affront of the Khotan and
Karashahr officials? Not one word is mentioned by Fan about
an investigation of what has happened. And where are politics
and diplomacy? On his face is only hypocrisy — so clear, so ap-
parent. After dinner, we stroll around the pond, on the bank
of which stand two junkas. Then the low bows of Fan.
We pass the statue of the Governor and we pay a visit to the
hospitable C. The day ends well. C. takes us by motor through
the encircling road. A fresh wind, and very clear — truly heavenly
— mountains. The evaporation from the newly fallen snow
makes the far-off chains of mountains and peaks ethereal and
transparently sapphire. Nearer are purple hills, and dented clay
walls flooded by the sun. It is so vivid, so fresh and beautiful!
[290]
rww
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
And even “the vegetarian” hypocrite Fan, begins to be trans-
formed into a jellied seaweed.
• • • • •
April 26th
The Kirghiz are galloping on small white horses. On their
heads are many-colored, quilted helmets. Just like the ancient
\uya\ of Russian warriors. On the crown is a tuft of feathers
of the horned owl. On the hand sometimes is a falcon with a
tiny hood above the eyes. They appear like a group which might
have come out of the twelfth or fifteenth centuries. And here in
the street stands the motor of C., a powerful Packard which, with-
out damage, went all the way through from Peking to Urumchi.
The motor belonged to the Russo-Asiatic Bank, but the Governor-
General forbade them to use the machine and they had to sell it
at practically nothing. Merely by its appearance the Packard
reminds us that the way from Urumchi to Peking can unques-
tionably be traversed by motor. And only human ignorance
and hypocrisy repeat the same paralyzing “No!”
Again a cold wind. Again the heavenly Bogdo-ula is a trans-
lucent blue.
Here again is a truly favorable sign: A Tibetan lama to whom
we gave a hundred Ians in Karashahr (at an encampment) ar-
rived to-day. He brought back the money, excusing himself
because he could not accompany us. He did not succeed in selling
his horses and sheep. And now the horses are thin and there
is no food. There is no one to whom to sell the animals, and the
herd of horses cannot be left, so he cannot go with us. He will
remain here until our departure and then will return. This is
typical of a fine type of Tibetan. He walked ten days in order
to return the money and to explain the affair. Up to now we
have seen nothing objectionable in the Tibetan-Buddhists. It is
a pity that he could not go with us. He is very well read and
speaks with an excellent accent. He drank tea and dried the
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
cup. He ate pot-cheese and washed his plate and put the chair
in its place.
We went out of town toward the lakes.
April 2jth
Note the character of the negotiations with Fan: He is told
that a certain river flows eastward, but he insists it flows westward.
They call his attention to the maps, but he repeats what he has
said. They point out personal evidence but he persists in his
declaration. And so it is against evidence, against maps, against
facts. How can one conduct transactions under such conditions!
The border between Mongolia and China is not clearly defined
at many points. Sharasiime up to the present remains in an un-
defined zone. Of course the Chinese delay, in every way, the
final division.
• • • • •
April 2 8th
Pilgrims are not permitted to enter Tibet. Some Khoshuts
gathered together secretly and set out for Tibet in February.
Will they succeed in crossing the border? Here they know about
the black stone — they await the stone. The Buddhists also know
about the legend of “Issa, the Best of Human Sons.”
A series of details is communicated to us regarding the hy-
pocrisy of the Tu-t’u and how he freed himself from undesir-
able officials. This is no longer old lacquered Chinese work,
but the grimace of a ruined mask. And the dark idol of the
Tu-t’u stands here, and on the dark body glow the gold epau-
lettes and the ribbons and stars. Broadly spread are the copper
legs of the idol; and Fan, with the grin of a skull, bows low.
One hypocrite commands, another hypocrite secretly grins, and
the third hypocrite in Khotan cleans his rifle for treason. From
where, comes this custom in Sinkiang of making an end of “dis-
agreeable” people after dinner, behind their backs? From what
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KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
depths of hatred for humanity, from what centuries of darkness,
came this technique of treason ? And this darkness is being over-
laid with “scientific” degrees. Tu-t’u is a master of arts. Fan
is a doctor of sciences, a lawyer and a writer. And where are
their writings against the fetishism to which they are prey?
Where are their condemnations of the sale of human beings
and of treason and lies which they slavishly serve ?
Throughout the entire day there is the noise of a dry and
burning buran.
• • • • •
April 2 gth
After a hot buran — a dry windy day. There is no rain. The
Moslems, Tartars and Sarts are ridiculing the command of the
Tu-t’u not to kill animals for ten days; to sell no meat, and to
whip the god of water for the drought. The Buddhists, Kalmucks
and Tibetans are simply deriding such fetishism. The Dungans
and Kirghiz, as well as Moslems, also mock and scorn it. I in-
quire for whose benefit this absurd act of savage fetishism is
conceived ? It seems that this entire comedy is invented expressly
for the Sinkiang Chinese. It means that the Chinese alone are
still a prey to the primitive form of fetishism. We did not know
this, believing that the Chinese were committed to “the justice”
of Confucius. And is it not the Tu-t’u himself, in the depths
of his soul, who is going to whip the god of water ? Because “the
god of water” belongs only to the Chinese; hence the whipping
of the god is needed for the benefit of the Chinese only. And the
Chinese “doctors” and “magisters” are seriously encouraging this
vicious absurdity. And they occupy themselves with absurdity
very strenuously.
As before, each night troops of ragamuffins are being dis-
patched in the direction of Hami. Against whom is this unique
“mobilization” directed? Perhaps against some detachment of
the people’s army of Feng? Of course, all these ragamuffins dis-
[293]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
patched by night are not soldiers but simply fetishes unfit for
anything. Out of twenty-four cannon, which were given by
Anenkoff, only two usually work. But probably the cannon are
also looked upon only as fetishes. To-day a big parade of “armies”
has been ordered.
We ask ourselves, “Why did Fan arrange a dinner for us?”
Is not this the beginning of some difficulties ? In Khotan all the
Taotai’s persecutions also started with the forty-course dinner and
an honorary escort and with the assurance, “We are your friends.”
All in all, here among the Sinkiang Chinese the word friend has
a peculiar meaning and we cannot approach the local psychology
with our own measures.
In a museum is preserved the compilation of the ordinances
of the Tu-t’u; people delude themselves into accepting these
moribund evil remnants as the fragments of former civilizations.
People are led into error by the “scientific degree” of Tu-t’u and
the vegetarianism of Fan. People are led into error, thinking
that the remains of fetishism are hidden in far-off marshes and in
solitary islands of remote oceans. No, here in the capital of
Sinkiang, under the wise rule of the Tu-t’u, fetishism is set up
as the state religion and is sustained by the commands of the
“ruler.”
Our letters and telegrams do not arrive. We do not doubt that
they are held back. The policemen asked E. I. whether I keep
a diary. E. I. said that the diary had been sent from Kashgar
to America. If only our books would not disappear! Where shall
one hide them in this kingdom of fetishism?
In Kam, to develop the fierceness and liveliness of the horses,
they feed them with dry leopard meat and pounded tea. They
tell of leopard spots which appear on the rumps of the horses.
Luncheon at Cavallieri’s. With the Europeans is one Chinese.
The conversation is about our ill-fated adventures in Sinkiang.
Chu says, “Do not judge China by Sinkiang. Good Chinese do
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KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
not come here.” I tell him frankly that I am still hoping to see
better Chinese. I would be happy to speak of China in terms of
praise, but the entire Sinkiang province, with the exception of
three men, did not permit any avenue for favorable conclusions.
We compare the joyous mood we experienced in Sikhim, in
the Himalayas, in India, in Ladak, with the prisonlike feelings
in Sinkiang. . . .
• • • • •
April 30th
Last summer nearly seventy Buddhist monasteries were de-
stroyed in the Amdoss district. “The Dungan armies of the
Amban of Sining used machine guns. Many Tanguts perished.
The Gegen of Amdoss asked the Goloks for help. The Goloks
responded to his call. During the course of the coming summer
it is possible there will be clashes. The Dungans have destroyed
the celebrated image of Maitreya.”
A lama from Kobdo is collecting a fund for the construction
of a new image. The Goloks have made a rule to draft for
service three men from each house. In Labrang, barracks are
erected for Dungan armies. And the anti-Buddhist movement is
being supported. All of this has not been printed anywhere and
it is very important for the future. In addition to the move-
ments which are apparent to the world, there goes on an inner
agitation which one can appreciate only on the site itself. F.
repeats, “Chu spoke correctly yesterday when he declared that
respectable Chinese do not go to Sinkiang.” F. doubts that any-
thing will result from our protests. He says: “Here you get ac-
customed to this and to everything just as you do to the sand
in the desert.” He is not correct! Even in Khotan we were able
to deal with the robber Kerim-bek. It is impossible to “listen
with equal indifference to the good and to the evil.” Now
the chief task is to leave Sinkiang. E. I. has no illusions, she
knows that we will have to face all kinds of difficulties. It is
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
rightly said by the Hindus: “Bring one rupee and every one
will believe; bring a million and they will doubt.”
The Orenburg horse became sick. We bled him. We were
told that we must lead him twice around the Kirghiz tombs, then
he would recover. So the local “experienced” people tell us.
In Lhasa is a temple of Gessar-Khan. On either side of the
entrance are the images of two horses — one red and one white.
According to the legend, when Gessar-Khan approaches Lhasa
these horses neigh. Will not the call of these horses be heard
soon ?
We are discussing news from Sining. “The long ear” of Asia
works better than the radio. From Kashgar there is no reply to
six wireless messages. The only thing that one may believe is
that the messages are being detained and, instead of their intended
destination, reach some entirely different place.
• • • •
May ist
At twelve-thirty, luncheon with the Chinese. The court is very
effectively and colorfully decorated. Under a big canopy hung
with many vivid rugs, tables are set for a hundred people. Along-
side are standing three yurtas for the Moslems where all the food
is prepared without pork under the special supervision of a Mos-
lem. The entire foreign colony is present. There are Italians,
Germans, English, Sarts, Kirghiz and Tartars. The Chinese offi-
cials are all present except the Tu-t’u himself. Opposite us sits
Fan. He does not eat anything except bread. It is either his
diet, or hatred, or the acme of suspicion. Here also sits the
brother of the Tu-t’u — an old man who fell into disgrace with
his ruling brother for his liberal views. During the dinner the
first one to get drunk is the commander of the fortress. He
begins to be offensive; he breaks a few wine glasses; he pushes
a lady and finally kicks over the tray with ice-cream. This inci-
dent of the ice-cream forces the Chinese to take measures and
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KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
the commander of the fortress is removed by the aid of the Chief
of Police and his own soldiers. Of all the Chinese, the most
indignant at the conduct of the commandant, is the nine-year-old
son of the Tu-t’u. He even has tears in his eyes for very indigna-
tion.
A youthful chorus sings a few songs. Mrs. E. P. P. tells
me, “We used to come to look at you through a crack in the
door when you came to Kuindjy.” It appears that she knew
Kuindjy and his wife, V. L., and so in Urumchi we speak about
Kuindjy! We recall how he fed the birds; we recall his fear-
less liberal speeches, his anonymous aid to students in all courses.
The memory of Kuindjy does not rust.
After luncheon they play pegs and tennis. In a week they
will open the club. On a small stage of the club, they are plan-
ning to give Moslem and Chinese plays.
In the evening new reports reach us concerning the events in
the Amdoss district about the oppression of the monasteries by
Chinese soldiers; about the entrance of Chinese armies into
Labrang; about the destruction of the image of Maitreya. The
dates are approaching.
Late in the evening Tumbal becomes furious; the people are
bringing a big Easter cake and eggs from G. and M.
To-morrow is Easter.
It is curious for us, passers-by, to hear what the Chinese and
Sarts say about the movements in Central China. They whisper
to each other and wink: “How will the Tu-t’u now get out of
this? Because this time, by whipping the gods, one will not
escape. And the cock fight will not help. . . . They dream
about the unseen Cantonese who must clear away the pillaging
ambans; who must control the merchants and give the district
freedom of industrial and cultural development. About Feng,
or as he is sometimes called, Fyn, one speaks with greater reserve.
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ALTAI-HI MALAYA
But Canton draws the people’s attention. To the armies of Can-
ton are attributed qualities, existing and non-existing.
They come and ask: “Have you forceps?” — “Why?” — “Well,
to extract a tooth.” On our travels, amid the bonfires, the
scenes recalled pictures of Bosch or the Elder Breughel ; and now
it is like Ostade. Nevertheless, the tooth is extracted and the
forceps are returned.
A Chinese comes: “Kumashka-yashka.” “What is that?” we
are laughing. Is not this a Sogdi dialect, or are the Yafe-tides
here? It proves to be a “box of papers.” You can imagine how
combinations of idioms are created. One may recall the anecdote
of two eminent archaeologists who found a stone slab on which
the curious expression, Razmo-cropo-godilos or Razmo-cropo-
godilos, was discovered. A lengthy discussion occurred as to how
to read the inscription, when suddenly the driver of their cart,
listening to the argument, smiled and said, “All that it means in
our language is ‘The weather has been rainy.’ ”
Improved combinations of different languages have a strange
effect.
As a result we have seen people who do not know even one
language. A little bit of Kalmuck, a smattering of Tibetan, two
or three Russian, Chinese and Sart words. And when such a
linguist becomes excited, he begins to talk in all five languages,
quickly, unintelligibly, but in his own opinion very convincingly.
Also he is very uncertain about his nationality; with unusual ease
he appears a Russian, a Chinese, a Torgut. That is to say “ku-
mashka-yashka!”
• • « •
May 2nd
A clear morning. Lamas are coming to congratulate us upon
the holiday. They are saying: “Christ is risen.” Well, western
clergymen, would you rejoice with the Buddhists on their holi-
[298]
From a painting by Nicholas Roerich
MONGOLIAN LAMA
Roerich Museum, N . Y .
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
days? We open our trunk filled with Buddhist pictures — we
hang them on the walls and, together with the lamas, admire
the resonant colors combined with the deep scientific symbols
of these figures. Only knowledge without prejudice opens up
new possibilities. The “incidental” of yesterday aligns itself with
the moving files of evolution, and to-day’s “imperative” seems
often to become simply an incidental experience.
Yesterday, at dinner, some one told us it was improbable that
we should be able to leave Urumchi soon. Can this be possible ?
So much of the undelayable, so much of immediacy before us;
and here is complete inertia. Sitting on the trunks! The sus-
pense of each day! Nothing from America! Why are our
friends not acting there? Even the date of the departure of M.
and S. is not known. However, maybe something is lost either
in the telegraph or in the mail. Or the telegrams will reach us
in half a year from now. This also happens here. The telegram
of April reached us in October.
May yd
Tsampa-lama came from Kobdo; he left his caravan of thirty
camels in Ku-ch’eng. He himself was immediately summoned
to the Tu-t’u, had a long conference and was given a yamen to
stay in, an honor reserved for an official not lower than the Taotai.
They are awaiting the arrival of two officials from Kobdo. Two
Mongolian lamas remain under arrest as before. The rumors
which reached us in Karashahr are being confirmed. A tele-
gram is received about the transit vise. It means that we can
move about May 15th.
Here we can no longer receive the information from Sining
about the Goloks. Now we must attend to our carriages to
Chuguchak and look over the baggage. A telegram, dated
April 2nd, arrived only on May 2nd. To Bakhty (the border)
the telegram takes only one day. It means that for about a month
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
the telegram was lying in Chuguchak. By foot one could have
delivered a message from Chuguchak much more quickly. If
only there may not be Chinese persecutions!
• • • • •
May 4th
Nevertheless, they chopped off the feet and hands of the poor
god of water for his lack of zeal. They had hardly finished
chopping them off, when it began to rain. Is it possible that
the Sinkiang god needs such severe measures? Rain and snow
began to fall and the streets of Urumchi changed into black,
slimy mud. One can imagine the condition here two weeks be-
fore our arrival. It is not without cause that they tell us that
donkeys and horses often drown here. It would cost nothing to
have the merchants pave the bazaar, laying a pavement before
each tiny shop. But here the all-powerful Tu-t’u does not exer-
cise his power. The “magister” of sciences is on good terms with
the reservoirs of mud. It is another matter when he finds it
necessary to shoot a suspected opponent in the back. It is related
that about twenty years ago a nobleman was honored by the
Chinese Emperor with an unusually high title. For the bestowal
of the title, a dinner was arranged by a local Amban. After the
ceremony and a dinner of the choicest, a soldier came from out
the curtain, behind the back of the guest, and with a single swing
of a saber cut off the head of the one honored by the Emperor’s
favor.
• • • • •
May yth
In Turkestan one Mullah, because of the absence of an “un-
faithful” one from the mosque, gave orders to pour forty pails
of water over his crown. After the seventeenth pail the unruly
“faithful” one died. What is there to do about such logic?
Everything has started to move more quickly. Already the
drivers are found. Now we have to decide the route. Three
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KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
alternative combinations are offered: First — Kuldja; from there by
motor to Tashkent, and by a direct train to the East; the second —
Chuguchak, Semipalatinsk, Novosibirsk; third — Topolev mys,
Zaisan, Irtysh, Semipalatinsk, Novosibirsk. The third combina-
tion is enticing, where we go by boat along the Irtysh, through
mountainous and hilly spaces. But are not the Chinese again
going to hinder us? Opinions are divided. Some think that
some sort of mischief will follow. Others think that this time
the Chinese will feel a sense of shame. Personally I am not
optimistic. Because in Kashgar also they assured us that there
would be no further insolence, whereas, one of the greatest af-
fronts was committed in Karashahr, beyond Kashgar.
We went with B. out of town in the direction of Bogdo-ula.
Endless Dungan cemeteries. Rows of small \urgans : On the
top always stands a pot, a vessel or chips of a pot; it is a sort of
ancient \urgan rite for the dead. In spite of their Moham-
medanism, the Dungans have kept some of their own inherent
customs. The Chinese folk-religion and Shamanism have left
their traces.
Filchner came. It seems that they permitted him all surveys.
May 6th
Packing. Arrangements with the drivers. Three troy\as to
Topolev mys cost 660 Ians.
May yth
The morning at Fan’s. All are ostensibly amiable. It seems
that he promises not to hinder us from going to Topolev mys
along the Zaisan. Much news about Tsampa. As in Karashahr,
we hear that the situation is serious. Ten million Ians were given
in payment to attract thirty Mongolian koshuns (Mongolian dis-
trict) to the side of the Tu-t’u.
Toward evening we walked with B. on the hills surrounding
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
the city. Again a cemetery. In the middle of the barren field
are a dozen crosses and two monuments. The history surround-
ing one of them is tragic. A young man, K., returned to his
father after the civil war. His relatives and his good friends
attacked him, and in every way denounced him. Finally, they
bound him and locked him in a closet where he hanged him-
self. And so, above the young man stands a high monument
with a big black cross and with a tearful text. . . .
To-day is as sultry as in July. The snow on Bogdo-ula has
melted considerably. In eight days we shall go again on a far-
off journey.
• • • • •
May 8th
Rumors are current: “The Amban of Sining fled with an army
of 20,000 under the pressure of the Tanguts.” Is it possible that
the Goloks are approaching? This is even now the beginning
of something prolonged.
How strange it is to think that here there is fetishism, primitive
spiritualism, superstition, the shrieks of Mullahs, the name of
Confucius — and everything is bound together as with an un-
breakable vise.
Soon our Geshe will go to his mountains. To-day he tells
us that the head of the medical school in Lhasa spoke to him
about “Azaras,” which is their name for the Mahatmas living
in the mountains and using their profound knowledge for the
aid of humanity. We have not previously come upon the word
“Azaras.” This is not Sanskrit. But how difficult it is to force
the Geshe to tell us details! Soon he will leave. He will tell
Toin-Lama all that the latter has lost. Fear is a poor counselor.
May gth
Again heat, unseasonable for the beginning of May. Some say
this will mean rain. Some “console” us by saying that the heat
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KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
has really begun. The Chinese seemingly are trying to persecute
E. I. with their procrastination. Everything is so complicated;
there are so many questions and so many unusual conditions.
One must hasten departure.
The head of the medical school told our Geshe that he him-
self met such an “Azara” in the mountains of Sikhim. It is
difficult to ascertain more than the fact that there was a small
house and that the “Azara” was unusually tall. Then the “Azara”
departed from the place. The very same news is creeping through
all Asia.
We went out of town. The cuckoo was calling. The hoopoes
were on the wing and the crickets chirped. Toward evening,
thunder. E. I. read notes about the foundations of Buddhism.
How beautiful is the unfoldment when the shell of the last
layer falls away; when labor and knowledge occupy their fitting
place.
May 10th
The soldiers have stopped their drilling. It is a holiday. They
say it is because the Amban of Sining is routed. The last Peking
newspaper announces that Kansu and Sinkiang remain in the
sphere of influence of the national army. For Sinkiang it is
significant.
Suddenly everything has so developed that it is necessary to
leave as quickly as possible.
Up to the present time there has existed a saga about Gessar-
Khan: “To Gessar-Bogdo-Khan were sent seven heads, cut ofi
from seven black blacksmiths. And he boiled the seven heads
in seven copper kettles. He fashioned out of them chalices, and
inlaid these chalices with silver. And so out of seven heads
came seven chalices; and Gessar-Khan filled these with a strong
wine. Thereupon he ascended to the wise Manzalgormo and
bestowed upon her the chalices. But she took the seven chalices
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
fashioned from the seven heads of the blacksmiths and scattered
them into the heavens and the seven chalices formed the constel-
lation Dolan-Obogod (The Great Bear). And she is preserving
the dates.”
How remarkably the symbols are fused into these unclear and
apparently meaningless words which bind Gessar-Khan with
the seven-starred constellation of the north. The Mongolian
“Gabala” and the special chalices of the Bhutanese temples recall
the very same strivings and hopes. Again is repeated the
prophecy from the Tripitaka that Buddha “indicated that his
chalice would become an object of search at the time of the new
achievements of the world, but that only pure bearers of the
Order would be able to find it.”
“Ribhavas are rushing to Savitri-Sun after Soma,” according
to the wisdom of the Rig-Veda. In the center of the plate of
Khyil-Khor, is enchased Mount Sumeru, and on its sides are the
four countries of the world, like great islands around it — a point
at equal distance from four oceans. . . .
The Lama proclaims, “Let life be firm as adamant, victorious
as the banner of the teacher, strong as the eagle, and continue
eternally.”
• • • • •
May nth
We are invited for luncheon. Filchner and the Catholic mis-
sionary are also present. Filchner, sunburned, in a leather jacket,
seems full of vigor. His task is a curious one. He connects the
magnetic researches between Tashkent and Central China. The
measurements were made in Russia, but the Carnegie Institute
carries out the work in China at great expense. And now Filch-
ner is combining these two fields of investigation as he told us.
We recalled his experiences with the Goloks. He did not
reveal his exact route.
The conversation with the missionary is interesting. He speaks
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KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
of the new understanding of Buddhism, as well as the present
need of understanding Nirvana. He speaks of the desire for an
immediate coordination of Buddhism and Catholicism. He men-
tions his knowledge of occult miracles. He is conversant with
the literature. It is significant.
May 12th
On the table lies a petition signed with a fingerprint. An
impoverished Kirghiz makes the following complaint: Three
years ago, near Manass, he and his nine-year-old daughter stopped
overnight in the house of a Dungan. For their night’s lodging,
the Dungan demanded the daughter of the Kirghiz. The Kir-
ghiz refused. The Dungan beat him and drove him out, but he
kept the girl and has held her for three years.
It is the usual occurrence here, to abduct and sell children
with the idea of work and more often, for the purposes of
depravity. Why call hypocritical conferences about the slaves in
Africa, when in Central Asia and everywhere in China the sale
of human beings is a common practice? All business organiza-
tions of the country know of this institution of slavery, yet none
demands its cessation. Where are, then, the protests and de-
mands ?
We received an invitation from the Governor General to come
for lunch to-morrow. Again the same people — Fan, Filchner, the
missionary and Cavalieri. . . .
In the bazaar, the rumor has spread about a march toward
Kobdo. And the last visit of the Governor General to the Con-
sul is connected with this rumor. The Taotai, the Altaian com-
mander of the local armies, left hurriedly for Sharasume. This
circumstance confirms still further the rumors of possible mili-
tary movements.
[305]
ALTAI. HIMALAYA
It is a clear and fresh day. If we could only leave! But this
is not possible before Saturday.
The stonelike metallic mass which remains after cremation
from the lower lobes of the brain is called Ring-se, meaning
treasure. According to the size of this mass, the psychic develop-
ment of the dead is judged. What a proof of materialism! On
the border of Tibet, we saw such a “mass” after the cremation
of one Mongolian lama. It looks like the precipitant of amber.
May 13th
In the morning the Mongolian lama arrives. What joy! What
we have gathered in spiritual teaching from the south, he like-
wise knows from the north. He relates exactly what fills the
consciousness of the peoples and what they await; and in thought
of this his eyes become filled with genuine tears. Our friend
T. L. was near Lan-chow for six months, and each day he spoke
of the significance of the future of Maitreya. “We knew it a
long time ago,” says the lama, “but we did not know how it
would come about. And now the time has come. But not to
every Mongol and Kalmuck can we tell it but only to those who
can comprehend.” The lama speaks about different proofs and
no one would have suspected such knowledge in this modest man.
He speaks about the spiritual meaning of Altai.
After these sincere and serious conversations, a hypocritical
luncheon with the Governor-General. Again we pass endless
corridors of the yamen. Again questions as to our health, again
toasts. Again the fins of shark, bamboo and fungi. This host
assures us that the local Sarts are better than all peoples of the
earth. Several years ago he declared the same about the Dungans
and even willed that he be buried in a Dungan cemetery. But
now the “current” is toward the Sarts and his will is already
changed. And the Sarts are proclaimed to be the best nation.
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KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
E. I. whispers, “What a horrible old man.” In the manner of
a funeral procession we go back through the corridors, little yards,
and the Governor-General pays us “the highest honors” by accom-
panying us to the carriage. Not a word about the investigation
of the affairs at Khotan and Karashahr, as if everything were
over and all the prohibitions against the work swallowed during
the luncheon.
One can insult, in every possible way, and afterward plaster
it over with the fins of shark. To-day they will seal our trunks
in order that we may not be disturbed on the border. For three
hours the absurd, dragging procedure of opening the trunks and
the useless inspection of our things, continued. And when will
this nonsense cease?
Toward evening, a provocation now familiar to us occurs. A
repulsive Dungan attacked and beat Ramsana. When he was
caught he claimed that he mistook Ramsana for a Chinese and
that was why he beat him. A strange explanation! It is queer
that this provocation occurs just on the day of the luncheon at
the Governor’s. During the evening they warn us of two dan-
gerous places on the road to Topolev mys. There are robberies
of Kirghiz. Of course, here the Governor gives us no escort!
The escort is necessary only where it is safe!
They tell us how the Dervishes sometimes kill the “unbelievers.”
In the crowd, or while dancing, the Dervish scratches the giaour,
with a poisoned nail and death sometimes follows the same day.
Medievalism!
c • • • •
May 14th
They gave us a passport to Peking as long as my own height.
Such stupidity — to write in a passport the number and description
of all objects! How many changes may take place on the road!
Chinese of Sinkiang, why do you reveal yourselves to us in such
a way?
[307]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
It appears that our drivers are not Chinese subjects at all,
but from Bokhara. Now there are many such chameleons. An
utter absurdity with the passports!
The volcanic traces in the district of Chuguchak, Kuldja,
Vernyi and Tashkent are interesting. The soil seems to be break-
ing like a gigantic dynamo; it continues for months at a time.
To-day is the farewell dinner at G.’s. Oh, how many difficul-
ties with the packing! Possessions — enemies of man! Will we
really leave to-morrow?
• • • •
May 15th
And after all we did not leave to-day! The driver refused to
load. All pressure and persuasions were applied, but the old
man remained as if wooden. The chief reason is that Saturday
is considered by Moslems an unfavorable day. How ridiculous!
And the whole day is lost.
We heard tales about Karakirghiz — how in the sixties, the
Kirghiz boiled 3,000 Russian Cossacks in kettles. The same in-
formation that the Kirghiz recently boiled and burned people in
ovens is reported. We are accompanied by a whole series of tales
of robberies. The Kirghiz robbed thirty arbas. The Kirghiz
rob travelers. The Kirghiz are holding a cliff, seven days’ travel
away. The Kirghiz have bombs. It is like a Karakirghiz-Thou-
sand-and-One-Nights.
• • • • •
May 1 6th
We left just the same. After all sorts of arguments with the
drivers, somehow we loaded. Of course the Chinese remained
true to type. The last night Sung cried and told the lama that
the police and the yamen prohibited him from going with us as
far as the border. Who knows what is the meaning of this new
intrusion in our life? Or Sung perhaps has given too good a
report about us. Sung is completely upset.
[308]
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
All the good people of Urumchi are bidding us farewell. They
are indeed cordial people.
At the left, the snow ridges of T’ian Shan glowed purple and
blue. Behind them remained the Kalmuck ultus. In back, ap-
peared Bogdo-ula in all its beauty. Amid the snows shone three
peaks — and it was joyous and full of light. And the air was
filled with the scent of wild mint and wormwood. It was so
luminous that the Chinese dusk paled at once.
Just as usual we were stopped at the custom house. In spite
of the six-foot passport, they senselessly inspected our arms.
Farther. . . . Farther. . . .
We camped in Sanji, a village thirty-nine versts away. To stay
beyond the village is impossible — it is dangerous at night, and
besides this, our faithful guard, Tumbal, was left at the Con-
sulate. We stop in a courtyard. An old Sart woman in white
walks with dignity through the yard. Little girls with many
little black braids scurry out of the hut. It is already six o’clock
and the heat has not yet begun to abate. How will it be with
E. I. when even to-day was so difficult for her. And what right
did the Khotan scoundrel have to arrest us and detain us longer ?
We might have passed here more than a month ago when there
was no heat. And instead of investigating the wretched inso-
lence with which they treated us, they gave us hypocritical dinners
and false toasts. Where is the justice of Sinkiang? Decadence!
In the evening, some strange types come again to inspect our
things. Understand, Chinese of Turkestan! While travelers re-
main as nothing but suspected prisoners in your country, so long
you, yourselves, will remain at the level of prison-wardens. It
is time for you not to affirm that the westward flowing river
flows to the east, as the “learned” commissar of Foreign Affairs
insists on doing. They say, “China was formerly a great nation.”
There are enough of all sorts of “former” peoples, now is the
time for living peoples. Some are so used to the local license,
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ALTAI -HIMALAYA
that they phlegmatically say, “Even if you sue them for a hun-
dred years, they will make no investigation, and the decision of
their court will depend on the number of thousands of dollars
paid to the judges.” So those who have lived a long time in the
large cities of Sinkiang declare.
May iyth
By five o’clock in the morning it is already warm. The day
is going to be hot. In the bazaar a man is tied to a pole. A
criminal ? Or one too clever ? A dangerous one ? A disfavored
one P A slandered one ? Bogdo-ula drowned in the mist, but to
the left, during the whole day, stretched the chain of T’ian Shan.
Truly celestial mountains. After the purple borders there are
ringing blue crests and the snow is sparkling. Dear mountain
snows! When shall we see you again?
It is sandy and dusty. By twelve o’clock, we have covered
nine p’o-t’ai, or thirty-six miles. We shall stop in the Dungan
village, Hutubi. The water yesterday was bad and to-day no
better. On account of the heat we decided to leave by night
in order to reach Manass at noon.
On the willow near the road, the nightingales are singing.
Sadig, the driver, volunteers to cover five more p’o-t’ai this eve-
ning and thus to shorten to-morrow’s journey. The loaded
troykas remain behind again. The old driver informs me that
he will go, not according to conditions, but as God desires. I
ask them to translate this to him: that he will return also as
God wills. The passage between Olunbulak and Kuldinen is
considered dangerous on account of robbers. Everybody advises
us that the carriages should go together and that the arms be
held loaded. The shooting usually starts from both sides of the
canyon.
Toward evening the heat becomes still more intense. By seven
o’clock there is no relief whatsoever. Because of our arrest and
[3io]
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
detention, we have lost two months and a half and by now we
would have been long since beyond the boundaries of the Chinese
Dance of Death. And is it possible that none of you, Chinese of
Sinkiang, who consider yourselves civilized, will be indignant at
the license of the Khotan official? Is it possible that I will have
to leave the boundaries of Chinese Turkestan, with the firm con-
viction that this country is not fit for cultural intercourse? We
would so sincerely wish to say a word of full sympathy for China!
We would like so much to justify her! Instead of that we
proceed with the feeling of prisoners who have escaped from the
nest of a robber-band.
It is hot and stuffy.
May 18th
We arise at 2:30 at night. By all measures we urge on the ill-
tempered driver and at half-past four we leave. The morning
becomes cloudy. The clouds were changed into opalescent fis-
sures. A cool rain is starting. The heat abates only after one
o’clock. The mountains of T’ian Shan reflect many colors. The
irises glow purple. The fresh grass is richly green and fragrant
after the rain. Our mood was somewhat disturbed by another
custom house and a third inspection of our passports. What for ?
Why to go by the highways, if turning toward the moun-
tains, one may cross without any inspections whatsoever! These
inspections are for the arbas and for inexperienced travelers but
an experienced horseman can always avoid these tinsel barriers.
The ruins of old Manass remind us of the massacre during the
uprising of the Dungans. There are heaps of clay walls. Rem-
nants of a temple. Empty casements of windows and doors.
Manass is one p’o-t’ai farther. And altogether we shall make
sixteen-and-a-half p’o-t’ai to-day. The same bazaars as at Manass.
The same Dungans. Sometimes one sees a Kalmuck. Here are
no Torguts or Khoshuts, but Olets, who occupy the Iliisk district
[3ii ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
and Kuldja. There is no difference in their appearance. Along
the entire road are stretched caravans of camels, carrying a hun-
dred thousand puds of wool, bought for export. The bells ring
impressively. Sadik, the driver, says with special emphasis:
“Wool toward Chuguchak!” The dream of the district to estab-
lish communication is being fulfilled.
We are stopping at the house of the Elder of the village. Here
the courtyards are somewhat cleaner than in the Kashgar and
Karashahr districts. They say that here also they will inspect
the passport. If only they do not tear up this ancient curiosity!
We should like to bring it back in safety and reproduce it.
During the day it seemed to us as though we were going, a
quarter century back, along the plain of Central Russia. And
now we sit in a dirty little white room. E. I. remembers that
thus, twenty years ago, we sat in little huts in Meretchi or Veluni
on the Neman, or under the walls of the monastery of Susdal.
Or later, in the cells of Siena and San Gemignano. We have
seen, we have seen, we have seen!
The day ended with the third inspection of the arms and the
deciphering of our passports. An illiterate opium smoker came
from the Amban. He read, syllable by syllable, our three-arshin*
long passport. He asked us to take out the guns from their
cases, and timidly touched a revolver. A long time he paced
about the same place and mumbled something and then he left
us under the responsibility of the inn-keeper. Can one include
such officials in the evolution of humanity? Simply dregs. But
these stupidly annoying dregs are capable of obscuring the shin-
ing mountains; are capable of transforming every peaceful mood
into the feeling of a prison. Away with ignorance!
• • • • •
May igth
What a good sign! So we are told. What is the matter?
We hear some unintelligible music, a shrill clarinet like a bag-
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KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
pipe, cymbals and a drum. This shrill noise continues the whole
evening. What is the matter? It appears that nearby a man
has died, and they are getting ready to bury him. Not without
cause in Manass, in a whole row of little shops, there is a multi-
tude of vari-colored, gayly painted coffins. They say it is a very
good sign for travelers, if a man dies nearby. It is uncertain
whether it was according to the sign or not, but at a point half-
way on our road, a wheel broke down. We shall have to repair
it at the nearest village.
To-day the road is a short one — only forty miles. We arrived
as early as half-past one. It is clear that we could do two-and-a-
half p’o-t’ai more, but the whole matter rests with the impossible
driver. We sit in Ulan Usun awaiting the carriage.
It is a vivid day. On the far-off mountains, it looks as though
snow has been added. The receding ridges are enticing. The
desert is covered with sappy verdure and purple iris. The grazing
herds are clearly silhouetted. The Lama goes aside and turns
eastward to pray. We catch the rhythm of his hymn of praise.
He probably invokes the new era, the time of Maitreya, the
approach of which all Buddhists know. Under the line of snow
on the mountains are hidden several large Kalmuck monasteries.
In each one are a few hundred lamas. The monasteries are
mostly nomadic — in yurtas. But there are also temples, al-
though we cannot see them. If you want, you can see an absurd
temple of the devil in Urumchi, but it is forbidden to see the
Buddhist monasteries. It is ridiculous and stupid.
The grass is so green and starlings and jays are calling in the
foliage of Karagach. The cuckoo hastily counts the years. In
the steppe stand pillars of smoke — they are burning reeds. These
clouds of smoke from the “Polovetsky Camp” are characteristic
of the horizons of the steppes. We recall the dreams — the paint-
ings of the year 1912, “The Serpent Awoke” and “The Sword of
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ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Valor,” when the fiery angel brought the sword of valor to the
guards.
We are told that on Altai some special red lilies bloom in
spring. Whence this general reverence for Altai?
It is hot. They warn us that here are many thefts. The Gov-
ernor-General did not send the promised order about the passage.
It is better so! At least we do not have to have the faintest feel-
ing that the Chinese did anything for us except to offer affronts,
violence and obstacles. From Ulan Usun is four days’ ride to
the Torgut summering place. It is equally distant from Kucha,
Urumchi, and from Ulan Usun.
• • • • •
May 20th
Up at four. How beautiful! The mountains become pink.
A purplish mist is rising. The grass becomes luxuriant. We left
at half-past five, before the heat. We made nine p’o-t’ai (thirty-
six miles) until Yan-zi-hai. A wonderful road. Fresh and sweet
is the scent of the silver jilda. The birds are singing; we have
not heard so many of them for a long time. We cross the plain
strewn with the mounds of graves — traces of skirmishes and the
Dungan uprising. Like a forbidding wall stand the silvery blue
mountains. We come speedily at half-past nine to Yan-zi-hai,
just on time. The sun is already scorching; everything is searing.
Jubilant, we enter a small clay hut. We shall be here until twelve
o’clock at night, and then by moonlight, in the coolness, proceed
further to Shiho. The nearness of Russia is already felt, in
something almost intangible. Either the streets of the villages
are broader, or there are more plowed fields. The inns are
cleaner! We sit again in a little clay hut. In the room swallows
are busy under the beams ; they have built their nest.
It feels as if the ground were shaken. In the district of
Chuguchak are extinct craters. Not long ago the underground
activity was so intense that they expected an eruption.
[3H]
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
May 2 1 st
We arose at one o’clock at night. In the darkness, in the begin-
ning of a buran, we left at half-past three. The mountains hid
themselves in clouds of dust. We thundered through a plain of
coarse pebbles. At one o’clock in the afternoon we came to
Shiho, making sixteen p’o-t’ai.
Halfway we -stopped to feed the horses. A crowd of Dungans
and Chinese gathered. They walked around, examined our car-
riage, tried to touch us. Veritable little animals. We recalled
how, fifteen years ago, in Sharasiime, there was an Amban.
From Urumchi, ten thousand Dungans were sent against him,
but from Zaisan a battalion succeeded in approaching and the
ten thousand Urumchi soldiers immediately dispersed. Now the
son of this Amban, an Olet prince, lives a day’s journey from
Shiho. He completed his education abroad. In the direction
of Shiho is also a big Kalmuck monastery. Shiho is the cross-
road between Urumchi (six days), Chuguchak (six days), Kuldja
(nine days) and Sharasiime (twelve days).
On our way we met three arbas with precious loads — marral
horns. Probably they are coming from Russian or Mongolian
Altai. They are going through Urumchi toward Ku-ch’eng —
to China to be used for valuable medicines. In Shiho we were
not admitted to the courtyard of a former Russian citizen. The
quality of the road is much better here than in Kashgar-Aksu-
Toksun. From the great expanse of pebbles, it would be easy
to make an excellent road. But for the Chinese, the fewer the
roads of communication, the more quiet. The less enlightenment
there is, the more convenient it is for the “rulers.”
The “ruling power” came for the passports. And it was a
very poor power indeed, so ragged, so ill-smelling! And with
what torture it tried to read, syllable by syllable, the innumerable
hieroglyphics of the six-foot passports. We gave the passports
to the official, not without fear; even without this, the corners
[3i5]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
of this “valuable” document are already worn from the endless
inspections.
E. I. says, “If the Chinese would have received us well, much
would have been changed thereby.” Verily, much!
No news from America. Where and whence are we going
to receive it? Up to May 16th we have received no answer to
our telegram sent April 12th. The condition of the telegraph
post, of the wires, of the insulators, spell, “Resign all hope.” One
has to tell H. they should not send telegrams by Bently. Here,
even without the code, the words are distorted beyond recognition.
May 22nd
The sands, up to Tcha-pe-dzi itself, cover sixteen p’o-t’ai .
Light clouds have hidden the sun. Otherwise there would be
an unbearable heat, and Sadik says that it would kill the horses.
We have never seen so much wild game. Gold pheasants and
partridges; geese, ducks, gulls and hares. The pheasants perch
on the road before the very carriage. We left at five o’clock;
we arrived at half-past two. They suggest it will be better to
travel at night. Tcha-pe-dzi is an unattractive place. The houses
are squalid. We stop just behind the village, near the river.
Beyond, the crest of T’ian Shan disappeared and far ahead, toward
the north, appeared the light line of the Tarbagatai mountains.
In the steppe are crumbling the Chinese tombs like little \urgans.
Again the ill-smelling ragamuffin comes and takes away our
passports somewhere. Amusingly he compares our faces with
the photographs. Endless police-quarters!
We learned who is Tsagan-Khutukhta. It appears that he
is an Olet. He is now in Labrang. How instructive it is to
compare the face of Maitreya from behind the Himalayas with
that from the North. Only thus is constructed a true repre-
sentation of personalities, events and faiths. Each country, not
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KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
deviating from the truth, adds its own details and its own obser-
vations. The reports about Tsagan-Khutukhta coincide.
Jilda is blooming. The early honeysuckle is becoming pink.
Toward evening all is fragrant with the new spring. There
will again be a drama with the drivers. We will have to persuade
them to move at night. We decided not to sleep, but to leave
at eleven at night.
• • • • •
May 2 yd
The pulse of the evening is one of unrest. Some wholly strange
Chinese came with ten soldiers. They are fulfilling some mys-
terious mission of the Governor-General. They are going to
Peking and Moscow. A net is being woven.
Advice has come: to leave at once; to muffle the bells on the
harnesses and to extinguish the lights. All is unrest. We follow
the advice and we leave under rain and wind with arms loaded.
We march through deep sands, difficult for the horses. Eighteen
p’o-t’ai to Ulan Bulak. It took twelve hours with two hours for
feeding the horses. Ulan Bulak is a poor langar. There is no
food. Seven p’o-t’ai from the langar, the sands change into the
dark-pebbled hills of the Djair mountains. Everything becomes
clear. Blinding, threatening clouds whirl. And in the direction
of Chuguchak it begins to thunder. We stop on a little hill
near a wretched Chinese temple. In front of us, for the last
time, stretches the ridge of the Heavenly Mountains merging in
mist. They are so heavenly in tone, so rich with their white
crests.
So little is known of Kalmuck alus. When and who will
succeed in threading all the labyrinths of buried treasures ? The
whole distance quivers in the rainbow of evaporation. The
sapphire desert and ethereal mountains merge with the sky. The
hills are adorned in gold. Verily thou art beautiful, Asia!
Accept the chalice.
[3i7]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
A couple of Dungans and Kalmucks are traveling with us.
And the tone in which the Kalmuck speaks to us rings confidently
and intimately. Naively he tells us how he wanted to hunt in
the mountains but the local prince forbade him. Across the
road ran six gray gazelles. One can imagine how much game
there is in the mountains.
The carriages do not arrive again. For the third night we
shall go without sleep.
• « • • •
May 2 4th
Only Ladakis and some of the Mongolian Khoshuns are fit
for distant trips. All others weaken and lose their vitality and
fall prey to melancholy.
We bid farewell to T’ian Shan. Ahead of us are snowless,
small cupolas of Djair. To-day is one of those unbearable days
of which all the caravaneers tell. It is in the canyons of Djair
that robberies and murders occur. The hills of Djair confront
us very severely. An icy gale, rain, hail, and during the night,
ice and snow. Our driver succeeded in making seventeen p’o-t’ai
to Kuldinen in twenty-two hours. We arrive at half-past two
at night. We are completely exhausted from dragging ourselves
after the arbas, with loaded guns. Ottu is a miserable station
in the middle of the road, sunken in mud. After us, come the
Chinese. Their arrogance begins. They walk all over us. They
spit. Here they have also built a bonfire out of manure, which
smarts the eyes. They pour oil on it and spill tea. We are glad
to get away for Kuldinen in the evening. We have not seen
any robbers. Now they say that the chief spot for robberies is
not on to-day’s road but to-morrow’s, between Kuldinen and
Yadmantu. In the snow we reach Kuldinen. We crowd our-
selves into an ill-smelling little hut, and we sleep four hours
without waking. And then, again, we load, and we again quarrel
with the wretched driver.
[3i8]
KARA SHAHR— DZUNGARIA
May 25th
The entire day is a beautiful one. It is true that in the narrow
canyons of the red mountains we may be attacked. We learn
that somewhere near here, during the civil war, many hundreds
of Russians were slaughtered by the Kirghiz. One senses a ten-
sion among our men. Seemingly, as though in spite, in the
most narrow crevice, the axle of the second arba breaks, and
the other four carriages remain interlocked. It is a most advan-
tageous moment for robbers, but they do not appear. For two
hours the men are busy with the carriage. On the road through
the hills, three carriages overturn.
After passing red and copper mountains we descend to a green
steppe which is surrounded by blue crests; again the purity of
the colors is like a fairy rainbow. Map’an (thirteen p’o-t’ai from
Kuldinen) is a joyous resting place on the steppe. On the
outskirts of the village stand yurtas. Herds are huddled together.
Kirghiz, in malachais, are galloping about like warriors of the
fifteenth century. The Kalmucks have honest faces. We have
not yet had time to find a camp-site in Map’an before a Kalmuck
comes with information of extreme importance: “In the second
month (which means March) the Urumchi Governor-General
spread the rumor through the uhis, the camps of the nomads
and monasteries that the Tashi-Lama had been elected Chinese
Emperor. He has not yet ascended the throne but he has already
accepted the tamgha (the seal).” Only those who have been
in Asia will appreciate the significance of this invention. Yet,
of this invention the newspapers do not write and Reuter’s does
not telegraph; but just these invisible knots are creating the future
reality.
A vast amount of news about the Tashi-Lama will float across
the Kalmuck and Mongolian spaces. For many years!
All the riches of this country, all its beauty, all its significance,
await new ways, a new culture and self-consciousness. Appre-
[319]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
date the nature of this rumor about the new Chinese Emperor!
May 2 6th
To-day our road is long; about ninety miles. We hasten
through a verdant steppe. Everywhere are yurtas and herds.
Above the distant Tarbagatai mountains are the signs of bad
weather again approaching and the wind becomes cool. To
the right are the four hills of Altai. We rush through the
village Kurte where the road branches into the larger road
toward Chuguchak, and the small, clay road toward Durbuljin.
In Durbuljin are the same clay huts and a still greater mixture
of nationalities. The predominance of Sarts or Dungans has
disappeared.
We have many annoyances with the drivers; we must induce
them to reach the Post across the boundary in one march. We
are advised not to remain overnight in the Chinese Post, or in
the zone between Posts (thirty miles). Thefts and robberies
occur there. We shall strive to make all seventy-five miles to
Kozeun in one stretch. If only the Chinese customs will not de-
tain us! Even Sadik (the driver) is nervous and advises us not
to remain at the Chinese Post.
Another anecdote: “In Urumchi lies the unburied body of the
Chuguchak Taotai. Beside the corpse is a white rooster, which
they have carried with the coffin from Chuguchak.” Grievous
are the affairs of the dead one; from Peking a command has
been received to institute a posthumous trial against the former
Taotai for his crimes, and until the trial is ended not to bury
him and not to send the body back to his native land. These
are veritable “dead souls”! And for the comic relief, the white
rooster is also crowing. If one has not been in China, it is impos-
sible to believe that are such Dances of Death. How little of
China is known, especially in America. I remember Dr. Laufer
asked me in Chicago, “And why do they fuss over the Chinese,
[320]
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
when they do not know them ?” At that time we also knew only
the “Museum” China, but not the reality of Sinkiang.
The albums of sketches are accumulating.
May 27th
The day with all its colors is a beautiful one. Blue mountains;
a silky steppe. At our left, are the snows of Tarbagatai, and
straight northward are the foothills of Altai itself — Altai, the
center of Asia. There are herds in the steppe. Great droves
of horses; and blackish gray and milky white yurtas. Sun and
wind and an unprecedented translucence of tones. It is even
more resonant than Ladak.
From morning on we have been tormented by the wretched
driver. Nothing is in order and the carriages are falling apart.
We have not encountered a worse fellow. After the performance
of the driver, a sequence of Chinese interludes. The Amban had
appointed a soldier to accompany us to the border of Kozeun.
The soldier arrived, turned around at the gate, and said that
he was going to drink tea, and we did not see him again.
After we had passed five p’o-t’ai, up to the border-line, the
comedy began; but one could have cried from it. The seven-
foot-long passport and the seals of the Governor-General helped
very little. The half-literate customs official wanted to break
the seals of the Governor-General. Then he wanted to count
all our things. And finally he tried to take away entirely the
Chinese passport which was given to us to go on to Peking
and to which was attached the visa. With the greatest difficulty
we induced him to abandon this scheme; nevertheless, the torture
and inventions of the customs idiot took about four hours. Only
by six o’clock could we make a move to pass, or rather crawl,
the twenty-five miles to the next Post. We had not completed
a mile before the wheel on the driver’s carriage broke. Before
us was the possibility of a night in the mountains, in the heart
[321]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
of the most dangerous locality. We had to return to the Chinese
Post. And here we sit again in our tents. Perhaps it is for the
last time, before a long intermission. The beloved mountains
and tent bring back so many recollections. And the full golden
moon looks unflinchingly into the flap of the tent. To-day
we passed a few nomadic monasteries where Maitreya is rev-
erenced. Avoiding complications with the Chinese, we did not
turn from our way toward the yurt as of the monastery. It was
a pity, it is a pity!
• • • • •
May 2 8th
How solemn is this night. The end and the beginning! Fare-
well, Dzungaria! As a farewell she revealed herself not only
with her blue snow mountains, not only with the chrysoprase
of the hills, but also with abundant grass and flowers not seen
for a long time: wild peonies, crimson red, yellow lilies, golden-
heads of a fiery orange color, irises, briar-roses. And the air is
pervaded with the breath of spring. We descended and ascended
green hills. We righted the fallen carriages.
Near us rode the Kirghiz escort. The same Scythians, the
same caps, leather trousers and half-kaftans, as on the vase of
Kuleb. The Kirghiz pursued the wolves which crossed the road.
One of the Kirghiz picked a big bunch of red peonies for E. I.
There is one more crossing. And on the peak is a heap of small
stones. This is the end of China.
Welcome, spring soil, in thy new attire! Continuous grass and
little goldenheads, and the white walls of the border Post of
Kuzeun. Soldiers approach and question us. They are gen-
erally anxious to do as is best for us. Where is the crudeness
and ignorance which one might expect in this isolated little post
unmarked on the map. A long and attentive inspection of the
things follows. Everything is examined. They apologize for
taking our time and for the bother to us. Here is the head
[322]
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
of the Post, and here is the family of his assistant, an old officer.
We remain overnight at the Post.
May 2 gth
This morning we rode as far as the village Pokrovsky (seventy
miles) on a wonderfully smooth road. The mountains recede.
They are getting lower. Kirghiz yurtas. Curious riders. The
sleek, raven-black horse of the soldier trots vigorously. A green
frontier cap. The first village is called Rurikowsky after the
first ruler of Russia. A low clay hut. The white walls and
meager gardens are already seen. The climate here is very
severe. Vegetables do not thrive — the frost kills them. But now
the summer heat has already begun. If only we could reach
Topolev mys; probably our driver will not make it. And so it
proves. On a straight slope the wheel of the wagon breaks to
pieces. One must send to the commandant’s post to Pokrovskoye
to get another wagon. We stand for a long time near a private
mill. The proprietor is unfriendly and does not give his wagon.
Here is Pokrovskoye. More white houses. The commandant
is coming out. Here is the head of the guard, and here is the
assistant of the commandant. Striving to surpass one another
they establish us in their modest apartment. They ask more
questions, ever more insistently. They expect enlightening an-
swers. They want to compare their information with ours.
Ramsana, not knowing the language, remarks: “They have good
souls.” We ask him how he came to this conclusion: “It is seen
in their eyes.”
It appears that our boat on the Irtysh leaves to-night, and the
next one only after three days. The driver is responsible for
this difficulty. But at the Post they rejoice and ask us to remain
with them at least one day. They come to us in the evening
and we converse until midnight.
[323]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
May gist
J. accompanied us on horseback to the steppe. We bade him
a heartfelt farewell. We made forty-five miles to Topolev mys
to Blue Zaisan. Mountains and hills. Flat \urgans. Gray grass
and vivid red slopes. Auls of Kirghiz yurtas. Not without
reason do they call Kirghiz “Kara-kirghiz” black ones. The
escort, a soldier, relates many instances of Kirghiz robberies.
The Kirghiz, Kurbanoff, keeps a band of fifty armed riders.
We rush through a gorge where twenty-two Kirghiz recently
attacked and tried to strangle seven frontier officials with lassos.
But the latter at once, at the point of the saber, captured and
slaughtered sixteen people. Farther, near a hill, four Kirghiz
attacked one soldier. He had a hard time getting away. Lately,
Kirghiz have driven 150 horses away from the ranch of Feodoroff.
In Chuguchak even now lies the seriously wounded chief of the
Post, struck down by the bullets of Kirghiz thieves. The peasants
complain about the perpetual robberies. Four cows of our hostess
were driven away. It is so difficult to subdue these robbers and
the soldiers of the frontier are straining all their forces.
Our driver lost his senses completely. During forty-five miles
we had nine stops and breakdowns. Finally, one carriage over-
turned, the wheels upside down. It is remarkable that the horses
and driver were not killed. Blue Zaisan glows on the horizon.
Behind it is the white crest of the Altai Chain. Is it not Beluha
herself ?
Here is Topolev mys, a squatting village with white mud huts.
A reliable boat left yesterday and we will probably have to go by
the Altai. We shall stop with old Feodorova.
We drink tea. We eat pot-cheese with sour cream. On the
wall hangs an image of Saint Nicolas and the supplement of
the magazine, “Neva”: “Lomonosoff Shows an Electric Machine
to Catherine the Great!’ The nephews of F. are coming — former
soldiers. They speak intelligently about China, Korea, and about
[324]
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
Chang Tso Lin. They want to get some perch and carp for
us from Zaisan. On the windows are red and purple primroses,
and the omnipresent geranium. Our Gegen was taken for a
Chinese general. How many legends will travel about our
passage ?
]une ist
Old Feodorova also complains about the Kirghiz. They steal
everything. Every night one has to guard the herds. But, in
general, life is well ordered. The driver, Sadik says: “They all
lie in Urumchi about life. They live as they lived before.” The
soldiers say of the Kirghiz: “When you come to him — he shouts
out, ‘Friend, friend.’ But he himself at the same time is schem-
ing how to take away your gun and to shoot you with it.” So
the whole night one has to keep the gun in hand.
Instead of the Altai came the worst boat, the Lob\ov. Well, it
is not destined that we shall go on a good boat — the driver pre-
vented it. The lake lies like a pearl net. To-day the sanctuary is
seen, the Kalmuck Mountain Sabur, or rather Saw-ur.
The Lob\ov proved to be not as bad as reputed. We arranged
for the lama and Ramsana on the top deck. We all found
accommodations.
Again a miracle; while we are still on the gangplank, the
stevedores gather around us and beg us to “tell” them. On the
top deck we are surrounded by a circle of all ages. And all of
them are burning equally with one desire: To \now. Each one
has his angle of approach; each one his information, but all
have one fervent desire — to know more. And how they dis-
criminate in what is told! What remarks they make! One
wants to know the economic situation of the countries; another
wants to know about politics; still another searches information
about Hindu Yogis, saying, “That’s where truth is.” People
who so desire to \now will receive what they desire. A boy is
[325]
coming. He wants to travel with us. Four are crowded in
George’s small cabin, and they speak in a friendly manner. Over
the pier is no longer hanging the atmosphere of profanity. The
people’s work is thriving.
• • • • •
June 2nd
“How I should love to study for thirty years without stopping,
but the job interferes,” says a workman on the boat. And his
eyes burn with a genuine thirst for knowledge.
For the last time, I turn toward China. On my painting which
is in Peking there is an inscription: “The Friend of China.”
Did my friendship lessen after seeing the whole Dance of Death
of Sinkiang? Not in the least. It is my friendship to real China
that has given me the right to record so many horrors. A hypo-
critical enemy would close his eyes at this horror of reality but a
friend must point out whatever assails an unprejudiced eye. In
the lancing of these ulcers lies the assurance of the success of
future China. Out of the past, out of the ancient civilization of
China, one can construct a bridge only to the future new con-
sciousness, with understanding of the true evolution. But the
present will sink into the darkness as a stained page of history.
The governors and ambans of contemporary China will become
horrible masks in the curio-museum, as little needed for humanity
as the amputation of the hands and feet of the god of water.
I sincerely hope that China may soon cast off all degradation
and wash away the dirt which has accumulated under the silk
of the outer garment. I wish success to all who understand the
terror of hypocrisy and ignorance.
Quite impartially, I am looking into the eyes of those who
try to ascend. What thirst for knowledge! This thirst moves
mountains; it gives an unwavering courage to new constructions.
While it is yet night, we leave Lake Zaisan and go between
the flat banks of the still narrow Irtysh. The water is shallow
[326]
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
now, and the boat more than once touches the sand bank. On
the prow they are measuring the depth. You hear the same
exclamations as on the upper Volga. Villages of a Kirghiz type.
Here and there are herds. Many geese and all sorts of other
wild waterfowl.
Green hills appear. We shall reach the mountains by evening.
Toward six o’clock we reach the village Bati. Little village houses
already predominate. And there are the mountains, and tempests
over the mountains. An astounding effect of the light steppe
under the blue mountains and cloudy billows. This wealth of
cloud we have not seen for a long time.
In the evening, in the dining room, a boy comes in: “And
won’t I be scolded for coming in ?” He goes to his mother. He
talks a great deal. He defends the Kirghiz. He insists the
Kirghiz would not steal. He tells about the unknown Kirghiz
mountain road discovered by him — “like a highway through the
very crest.” . . . He speaks about catching fish: “We caught pike.
Two puds’ weight — like a crocodile.” He remembers meeting
a bear: “I was afraid of him but perhaps he was still more afraid
of me.”
The late evening until midnight is occupied in conversation
with a village school teacher, about Yoga, about secrets of India,
about reincarnation. All these questions are as daily bread here
and the people live by them. They correspond with one another.
They ask involved and profound questions. Such village school
teachers are many. They keep in touch with each other and
are genuinely interested in scientific discovery and psychic re-
search. Toward midnight we reach Novyi Krasnoyarsk. A
crowd comes to the boat.
• • • • •
]une yd
Since morning we have been passing tall cliffs. Gray masses
are blocked up to the very edge of the water. The Irtysh has
[327]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
become narrower and flows still more rapidly. There is the
little wooden city, Ust Kamenogorsk, and beyond, the mountains
end. The Irtysh spreads into a broad, smooth, flowing river
and on the horizon the separate crests and pyramids of vanished
mountains are still visible. Farewell, mountains!
We have decided to go from Semipalatinsk to Omsk by boat,
along the Irtysh. It entails a change of route. But it is no better
by train. Twenty hours to Novosibirsk; we would arrive there
late at night. On the boat, there is more intercourse with
people and more air. There are cool days now and cold nights.
They say that for three years now changes of climate have been
noticeable. There is no heat during the summer, but the winters
are also less cold.
Late at night there is again a conversation and on the same
themes. It is really remarkable, personally to be convinced of
the direction of the people’s consciousness.
• • • ft •
June 4th
Semipalatinsk. Three o’clock in the morning. The cargo is
transferred to another boat, the February Eighth, as far as to
Omsk. We decided to go by boat because the Altaian line is slow
and it takes twenty hours to Novosibirsk. Again we meet courtesy
and the desire to help in all ways. They give us letters to S.
in Omsk, where they will arrange reservations for us in the inter-
national sleeping car. We visit a bookshop.
A boat was dragged under the steamer. It was capsized by
the current. In a friendly way they rush to help the poor fel-
lows. On the steamer curious children roam about. There is
respectfulness in them, no rudeness — there is the same eagerness
for learning. The Irtysh has spread itself into a powerful, broad
river, on which rafts float. They are manned by the Kerjaks,
Old Believers : “If you tell them that you have eaten with Kirghiz,
they will never permit you at the table. And they all command
[328]
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
that one should cross oneself,” explains the little boy. A proverb
of the steppe: “If thy comrade is one-eyed, try to close one eye
to be a pair with him.”
The auls of the nomads disappear. The horseback riders are
seen more rarely and the Siberians, seemingly hewn out of stone,
begin to appear. Below Beluha, snow still lingers. Lately snow
fell again. Meat is sold at 8 kopecks a pound, and a good horse
is worth 80 rubles. And to everything is added the firm, stub-
born, Siberian: “However.” The Siberians are not afraid of
the Kirghis — it is, as they say, only some prank of the steppes,
thievery, bravado. A Comanche or a Zuni in Arizona will also
lead away a horse. And did the Scythians really hobble their
own horses on the vase of Kuleb? So much is being created.
And the soil — the soil of Buddha — is being transported. Again,
many dates will be forgotten and one may not record them.
]une $th
The tales about the cruelty of the Chinese are penetrating
even here, on the Irtysh. The traveling frontiersmen remember
the Chinese tortures witnessed by them. The convicted person
is put into a hollow pole filled with sharp thorns. The body
is thrust with all its weight upon the thorns. Through the nose
and the nasal tube and mouth is drawn a horsehair and they begin
to saw. Or they draw a horsehair through the eyeball. All this,
the frontiersmen see and carry the news to the cities. And the
Kirghiz’s pranks also are related everywhere. When recently a
rich bey robber was caught and sentenced to be exiled to Kam-
chatka, two hundred of his tribe came and offered all their wealth
as ransom for the elder robber. Only by firm measures, these
robberies can be stopped, especially if the Chinese will cease to
favor contraband, for which they receive big bribes.
The yurtas almost ended. Low pine trees and shrubs. Behind
the window, two young workmen are conversing. They speak
[329]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
about the organization of their local theater, about difficulties with
costumes and lighting. They speak as one seldom hears in a
capital. The frontiersmen speak of Buddhism; they understand
it is not a religion but a teaching. They appreciate that Buddha
the man, is a real historical personality. They are interested in
the manuscript about Issa; they discuss the vastness of matter.
What accounts for this vital, clear thinking? Because it is the
nature of the spirit to strive toward beauty.
A bearded peasant from Nijni-Novgorod passes. He grieves
that people do not understand the value of practical unity: “And
they tend only to separativeness in the village: but how much
more useful it would be to work as a unit. If we only could have
Ford himself among us.”
• • • • •
]une 6th
Some people are afraid of mountains and they insist that moun-
tains stifle them. Are not these people also afraid of great works ?
The Irtysh grows still broader. What a current! The water
has become yellow and the white caps rise. Now we can well
believe that Yermak might have drowned here.
On the piers, the crowd becomes more and more dense, as
though the entire town had poured out on the steamer. One
little fellow asks another, quite a small one: “Are you a Boy
Scout?” It is interesting to see the ease of migration so charac-
teristic of the peasant. Listen to their speech — this one from
Kamchatka is now in Semipalatinsk; this one, from Kronstadt,
is in Paveodar; this one was in Seul and in Bokhara; this one is
from the borders of Poland; this one from Nijni-Novgorod, is
now in Altai. To-morrow is the last day of the Irtysh — Omsk.
A train and again that beauty above which is the Sign of the
Rose.
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
June 7th
The wind and the whitecaps changed into a cold downpour.
The crowds on the piers hid themselves. E. I. is pleased — there
is no heat, which she so feared. We ask ourselves: Have the
Lichtmanns already started ? The last letters from America were
from the beginning of January and the telegrams from the begin-
ning of March.
The charm of Asia! Not the contagion — but the enchantment,
and it was always within us. Even before the “Polovetsky Camp”
or the “Guests from beyond the Sea” was painted. And how
shall we be without thee, Asia ? But we have not left thee. And
when shall we leave thee? And where is thy border, Asia?
Who said thy border is along the Ural? What tasks can be
accomplished without Asia? What structure can be made with-
out the stones, without the covenants of Asia ? The “Long Ear”
of Asia hearkens to the music of the spheres. The “Great Hand”
of Asia is raising the chalice. About the Long Ear of Asia are
woven many tales. About the Great Hand of Asia, the epic is
only being written. All great Teachers came from Asia. E. I.
reads the letter of the Mahatma. This morning we passed the
village Yermak and the place where the conquerer of Siberia was
drowned. The workman explained: “He would have swum out
but his heavy armor dragged him down.” So the workman
remembers the hero of these wintry lands.
June 8th
Omsk. A bridge across the Irtysh. Some “historical” build-
ings; a private house where Kolchak lived; the building of the
Kolchak Senate; the house of the soldiers; the cathedral where
the worn banner of Yermak is guarded; the half-destroyed prison
where Dostoyevsky was confined; the top of an old prison of the
seventeenth century. It appears that both trains which we needed
have just left and we shall have to remain three days — until
[33i ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Thursday evening. We hear about my paintings and the high
prices that they bring. There are more questions about Yoga,
about India, about Buddhism and about the teachings of life;
of the study of will and cosmic matter.
Newspapers write that we have “found” the legend about
Christ. Whence comes this legend? How could we find what
has been known so long ago ? But we found something greater.
We could establish that the story of the life of Issa, the Teacher,
is accepted and lives throughout the entire East, on the borders of
Bhutan and in Tibet, on the walls of Sikhim, on the peaks of
Ladak and in the Mongolian Khoshuns. And in the Kalmuck
ulus lives this legend — lives not in the sensationalism of the Sunday
papers but as a firm, calm realization. That which for the West
is a sensation, is for the East an age-old knowledge.
• • • • •
]une gth
The cold sun penetrates through the ornamented leaves of
the Philodendron in the rooms of the Hotel Europe. Not to a
hothouse, not to a botanical garden, but to Sikhim shall these
leaves carry our remembrances — there, where from the river
Tishta we ascended to Chakong, the very same leaves wound
around the green mossy trunk, interwoven with the brilliant
colors of orchids; and to a small temple in Chakong with the
solitary temple guard, tall and stately, in a simple linen shirt;
and to the evening legends of Lama Mingyur. And so this
ornamented leaf shall lead now into the far-off country and near
this leaf shall flourish the images close and dear to us.
We are going to the District Museum. It has an art and
ethnographical department. From the big cities they have sent
a series of paintings. There is not only Levitsky but also
Musatoff and Levitan. To our surprise, we find also two of my
paintings. Both are from the unfinished group which stood
near the walls of the studio. One, “Boats” (1903) from the Suite,
[332 ]
KARASHAHR— DZUNGARIA
“They are Building the City.” The other one, “Benevolent Tree”
(a sketch). One should note that both are unfinished.
The local school teacher comes up and asks, in astonishment:
“You are Roerich?” — “Yes” — “But you were killed in Siberia, in
1918?” Again the same fairy tale, which reached us in London
and America. And how could we not be killed if there were
“funeral services” and obituaries ? But the one who was chanted
away at the “funeral services” has since worked very joyously,
has traversed oceans and easily ascended heights. Probably the
“funeral services” helped; and the obituaries were very heart-
felt ones.
]une 10th
We are departing: the trains leave at midnight. Friends, I
shall rejoice, upon the completion of the journey, to transfer to
you the complete drawings along with these brief notes. But
for this, it is necessary to settle down somewhere for a time, and
to arrange the notes and albums. But where and when ?
Kosloff writes about Khangai. Two statues are interesting —
the black and the white — the good and the evil. But why are
they in Scythian attire? Are these Taras? Or adapted stone
figures? It is significant as is everything from the old district
of Orkhon.
To-day is Saban Tui, a Tartar holiday of the sowing. Races
on horses and camels. The Tartars with loud bells gallop into
the grove outside the town. They are celebrating the new sow-
ing.
At midnight the train arrives. We are passing under the Sign
of the Rose ; under the sign of the holiday of the sowing. Greet-
ings to Friends!
[ 333 ]
Part X
ALTAI
(1926)
Across the entire heaven shone a rainbow. And not one, but
two. And through the rainbow-gate rushed the broad Ob: The
great Ob — birthplace of the wife and serpent.
The Shambatyon River rolls along rapids and stones. Who
will brave it? On its other shore live the people of M. M., the
most sacred letter of the alphabet, conceals the name of the
coming one. The Kabala recalls the Shambatyon. Katun * rolls
along stones — a true Katun. And as yet, the city has not been
built on the new site.
• • • • •
Katun in Turki means woman.
“The Dodecahedron, significant of the feminine Origin, is being
indicated in scientific terms which are connected with the dates
of evolution. . .
“On Katun and on the Bia, brother will rise against brother.
There will be great slaughter and then there will begin a new
life ”
• • • • •
And still others come and speak concerning the same year of
Twenty-eight. The sun spots condense as at present only every
seventy-seven years. And then finally comes the most inspired
* Katun is formed from the root, “to roll.”
[334]
ALTAI
person and he also talks about the same year. What a wonder!
One, through astronomy; the other, through astrology; the third,
through writings; the fourth, through numerology; and all are
concerned with the same thing. What a wonder! If one adds
twenty-five to 1911 one gets the same result — the year 1936.
Stone — wondrous stone. The stone of Tigeretz. And simply —
stone. The entire district is all stone!
Elen-Chadir, Tourak, Kuegan, Karagai, Ak-kem, Yasatar,
Ekonur, Chegan, Arasan, Urul, Kuraghan, Alahoi, Jharhash,
Ongudai, Eloman, Turgunda, Argut, Karaghem, Archat, Jhaldur,
Chingistai, Ak-Ulgun, Hamsar.
All these are names; these names of rivulets, habitations and
town sites sound like a chanting tune, like a harmonious peal.
So many nations have brought their finest harmonies and dreams.
The tread of tribes went and is returning.
Near Black Anui on Karagol there are caves. The depths and
distances are not known. There are bones and inscriptions.
And when we crossed Edigol the broadness of Altai spread
before us. It blossomed in all interblending green and blue
shades. It became white with distant snow. The grass and the
flowers stood the height of a man on horseback. One cannot
even locate the horses in it. Nowhere have we seen such grassy
vesture.
• • • a o
An Altaian overtook us. Timorously he peered at us. What
kind of new foreigners had come to his country ? He brandished
his whip and disappeared in the resounding grasses — blue, gold
[ 335 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
and purple. The resemblance between the North American
Indians and the Mongols is striking.
About the good Oirot all know. Also they know the favorite
Altaian name — Nicholai.
Beyond Yalui begin the Altaian Ails. The peaked yurtas
covered with the bark of the larch tree are darkened. The site
for Kamlayne is seen. Here they do not say Shaman but Kam.
Toward Anui and Ulala there are still Kams who “conjure forth
snow and serpents.” But toward the south, Shamanism has been
replaced by the teaching about the White Burkhan and his friend,
Oirot. Sacrifices have been abolished, being replaced by the burn-
ing of aromatic heather and by harmonious singing. They ex-
pect the beginning of the new era soon. It was a woman — a
young Altaian — who sensed the new steps of the world and safe-
guarded the first austere law.
• • • • •
The road, washed away by rains, exhausted the horses. We
stopped in Kurlyk. We shall have to sit through the night.
But it is no hardship to spend the night in a place where the
teaching of the White Burkhan and his benevolent friend Oirot
were born. The name of Oirot has been accepted by a whole
district. Here, verily, they expect the coming of the White
Burkhan. In the cliffs towering over Kurlyk, the entrances of
the caves loom dark. These caves penetrate deeply: their depth
has not been ascertained. There are also secret passages — from
Tibet, through Kuen lun, through Altyntag, through Turfan; the
Long Ear knows of secret passages. How many people have
saved themselves in these passages and caves! Reality has become
a fairy tale. Just as the black aconite of the Himalaya has become
the Fire-Blossom.
When the white birch grew in our land, the White Tsar
[336]
OIROT, MESSENGER OF THE WHITE BURKHAN
(Banners of the East Scries)
ALTAI
came and conquered our country. And the Tchud did not wish
to remain under the White Tsar and went under the ground.
And they covered themselves with stones” — “On the Ouimon they
show you the Tchud graves covered with stones” — “On this spot
the underground Tchud departed.” The migration of the nations
has been imprinted there.
• • • • •
Belovodye! The grandfather of AtamanofT and the father of
OgniefT went in search of Belovodye: “Over the Kokushy Moun-
tains. Through Bogogorshe. Over Ergor — by a special path.
Whoever does not know the path will perish in the lakes or on
the hungry steppe. It has happened also that the people from
Belovodye have come out on horseback through special passages
over Ergor. And also long ago it happened that a woman from
Belovodye came out. High of stature, thin of figure, with face
darker than ours. She was clad in a long skirt, a kind of sarafan.
There are special dates for everything.” . . .
From the south and from the north, from the east and from
the west, they are thinking of the same things. And the same
evolutionary process is being impressed upon the best images. A
center between the four oceans exists. Consciousness of the new
world exists. Will the subterranean Tchud not return? Do not
the Agharti, the subterranean people, saddle their horses? Does
not the bell of Belovodye ring out ? Does not the horseman ride
over Ergor ? On the ridges — on the Dalnyi and on the Studenyi,
the peaks are aflame.
• • • • •
“In 1923 Sokoliha with the people of Bukhtarma went to search
for Belovodye. Not one of them returned. But recently there
came letters from Sokoliha. She writes that she did not reach
Belovodye but she lives well. Where she lives, she does not write.
All know of Belovodye.”
[337]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
“Since when originated the news about Belovodye ?”
“The message came from the Kalmucks and the Mongols; origi-
nally they told our forefathers who lived according to the old
belief and devotion.”
Which means that at the base of information about Belovodye
lies a communication from the Buddhist world. The same center
of teaching of life is interpreted by the Old Believers. The way
between the Argun and Irtysh leads on to the same Tibet.
They write about the magnetic storms and the unusual tem-
perature and about various natural phenomena due to condensa-
tion of the sun spots. Next year the effect of the spots will be
still more significant. Unusual northern lights are possible.
There may be shocks of the nervous system. How many legends
are connected with sun spots, those menacing wrinkles of the
luminary.
• • • • •
Ramsana left for Ladak. He could not stand the low places
of the north. “Either I leave or die.” Of course, Ladakis pass
their whole lives on heights not lower than 12,000 feet. It is a
pity for Ramsana. One can confidently depend on Ladakis to
watch things. The Oirot drivers are not like the Ladakis.
Vakhramey counts the number of wagons and agricultural
machines. The Old Believer’s heart has assimilated the ma-
chines. Sanely he estimates the industry of Germany and
America. Sooner or later they will certainly work with America.
The people remember the Americans. They value the frank
character of the Americans and are aware of the common traits.
“Come to work with us!” they call to the Americans. This
friendly call has penetrated throughout all Asia.
After discussing industry, Vakhramey begins to murmur, chant-
[338 ]
ingly, some tale; I catch: “And receive me, thou most peaceful
desert. . . . And how shall I receive thee? I, the desert, possess
neither mansions nor palaces in me.” . . .
It is familiar to me: the tale about Jasaf. “Dost thou know,
Vakhramey, about whom thou singest? Thou singest about
Buddha. Because the Bodhisatv has been transformed into Jasaf.”
So Buddha merged into the Kerjak consciousness. The
plowed fields led them to the machines and cooperation to
Belovodye.
But Vakhramey is not only versed in the cooperative move-
ment and in canticles. According to the covenant of the wise
ones, he is not astonished at anything; he knows the ores and the
deer; he knows the little bees and especially the secret tradi-
tions. He knows the herbs and the flowers. This is indisputable.
And not only does he know how and where the flowers grow,
and where the roots are hidden, but he loves them and delights
in them. Gathering a great bunch of vari-colored grasses, that
reach up to his gray beard, his face lights up. And he pets them.
And caressingly he speaks of their usefulness. Here is verily Pan-
teleon the Healer. It is not dark witchery but knowledge
drawn from experience. Greetings, Vakhramey Semeonich!
For thee, on Himalaya, does the Fire-Blossom grow!
And here is Vakhramey ’s sister, Aunt Elena. She is both a
healer and a painter of verdure and a skillful writer. She also
knows herbs and flowers. She can decorate any kind of case-
ment with ochre and madder-lake and red-lead. On the doors
and casements, she can paint all types of grass designs. Or she
will adorn them with bright little birds and a ferocious yellow
lion as a guard. No important letter in the village can be written
without her . . . “And to whom art thou writing? — to thy son?
Let me tell thee how to write” — And a long, compassionate, heart-
[339 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
felt epistle, full of poetic spirit, would flow forth. Such a capable
woman !
“With the people of Bukhtarma we do not wish to associate!
You see, they appeared as comrades but really came to rob, and
the most characteristic thing was their ancient sarafan. . . . And
so now they are called ‘Sarafaniki,’ Now, of course, they have
reformed. If you meet one — he turns away his face, because he
still is human and feels ashamed. . . . Now we ought to have
real American machines. It is time to free the horses.” . . .
Again one sees a striving toward vigilant cooperation. And
new herds are fattening on the high ridges. And from the
Studenyi summit one can see best Beluha itself — of whom even
the deserts whisper.
Everything bears the traces of the civil war. Here on the
highway, a Red regiment was destroyed by ambush. Here in
the Katun they drowned the Whites. On the mountain ridge
are lying the red Commissars. And under Katanda, the Kerjak
psalmist, an old believer, was hacked with sabers. Many graves
on the roads; and near them grows thick new grass.
As birds on the branches, so from mouth to mouth flit words
forgotten and not recognized by any one. The inhabitants in
Trans-Baikal calls a spider misguir. And a guest merchant is
called misguir — according to the Siberian interpretation, simply
a spider. What kind of Turki idiom helped here? Wind, in
the language of the people in Trans-Baikal, is hiyus — this is com-
pletely beyond understanding. The root is neither Mongolian
nor Yakut.
On the taiga toward Kousnetzk they eat fitches and marmots.
This is dangerous because marmots bring on the bubonic plague.
They say that the infection disappears from the fur under the
[34o]
ALTAI
influence of sun rays. But who can ascertain when the rays
have effect and how much? Whence came the famous Spanish
influenza, so similar in form to the bubonic plague? Is it not
from furs? Mongolia is often the breeding place for epidemics.
And the cattle plague is also very common. One gets used to
everything. In Lahore, in Srinagar, in Baramula, cholera was
raging when we were there. In Khotan there was small pox;
in Kashgar, scarlet fever. One gets used to anything.
Oirot horses are sturdy, as are also the horses from Kuldja
and Olet. The Karashahr race horses and Badakhshans are not
sturdy and are less adaptable for the mountains.
The Mongols and Buriats are anxious to see various countries.
They want to visit Germany and France. They love America
and Germany. The need of broadening one’s horizon is demon-
strated by them in an ancient parable of a frog and a turtle: The
frog lived in a well and the turtle in the ocean. But the turtle
came to the frog and told him of the vastness of the ocean. . . .
“In your opinion is the ocean twice as large as my well?” . . .
“Much larger,” answered the turtle. “Wouldst thou say three
times as large as my well ?” . . . “Much larger.” . . . “And four
times as large?” . . . “Much larger” . . . Then the frog chased
away the turtle as a boaster and a liar. . . .
The Popovtsi, the Bezpopovtsi, the Striguni, the Priguni, the
Pomortsi, the Netovtsi (not recognizing anything, but consider-
ing themselves “of the old faith”) afford many incomprehensible
discussions. And toward Trans-Baikal among the Semeiski (Old
Believers exiled to Siberia with their entire families), also are
added the Temnovertsi, and the Kalashniki. Each one of the
Temnovertsi has his own ikon closed with little doors, to which
he alone prays. If some one else should pray to the same ikon,
[34i 1
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
it would become unfit! Still more strange — the Kalashniki.
They pray before the ikon through a little opening in a \alach
(a loaf of bread). We have heard much, but such obscure beliefs
we have never seen nor heard of — and in the summer of 1926!
Here are also Hlysti, Pashkovtzi, Stundisti and Molokans.
Among the green and blue hills, among the taiga thickets, one
cannot perceive all curves. Glancing at the beard and low fillet,
one cannot judge what the heavy-garbed man whom we en-
counter is carrying with him.
Ust Kan is the last telegraph station. From there we sent
the first telegram ever sent to America. The telegraph operator
was upset. He offered to send it by mail to Biisk. He had
never dealt with such a fearful animal as America! But we
insisted. And he promised to send it after consulting Biisk.
It is planned to extend the railroad line to Katanda, in two
stages from Beluha. Up to Katanda, even in pre-war times a
railroad line from Barnaul was planned — connecting the heart
of Altai with Semipalatinsk and Novosibirsk. They say that even
then the engineers went through this line. “Yes? When,
‘then’?” . . . “Yes, it is known before the war.” . . . The mys-
terious “then” becomes synonymous with the “pre-war epoch.”
From Peking one can go on a “Dodge” up to Urumchi itself,
which means also up to Kuldja, up to Chuguchak, up to Semipala-
tinsk. Life forges a vital web of communication.
Tales creep in from Kobdo. Every one is interested in con-
veying to us at least something of unknown Mongolia, of the
land of magnetic storms, mirages of the sun, and cruciform
moons. Every one wants to know about Mongolia. . . . Every-
thing is strange. They tell of a sentinel who was eaten by dogs.
He hacked seven of them, but could not save himself from the
pack. A Mongolian commander in Uliasutai ate a human heart.
[342]
ALTAI
There are some who say it was a Russian and some who think
it was a Chinese. On the Iro and toward Urianhai there is much
gold. Also on the Iro a strange boy who pronounced some
prophecy was born to a Shaman woman. They whisper about
the reincarnation of the Mongolian Bogdo Gegen. And others
say that another unusual being was also born in China. But
authorities do not recognize either the one or the other: Bogdo
Gegen was never reborn either as Mongolian or Chinese, but
always in Tibet. On the way from Uliasutai to Kobdo some
wild people in furs jumped out and threw stones at the machine.
They were so-called Guards! On the way to Manchuria from a
cliff “mineral oil” flows into the desert. There also exist such
magnetic places that even an automobile slows up.
Thus at the cross-road are woven complicated carpets of Asiatic
design. And how can they exist without news? In this case,
it would not be worth while to go to a far-off ail and to drink
tea with a strong essence of tales. Mongolia attracts attention.
“Blacksmiths of Kurumchi” — strange incomprehensible people,
who not only passed but also lived within the boundaries of Altai
and Trans-Baikal. The generally accepted divisions of Huns,
Alans and Goths are divided into manifold unaccountable sub-
divisions. To such an extent is everything obscured that coins
with exact dates are sometimes attributed to completely non-
correlating, temporarily established periods. Stagstones, Kerek-
suri, stone figures; walls of nameless cities — although all have
been written about and counted, yet the paths of the peoples
have not been clarified. How remarkable are the textures from
the last Hun’s graves which completed the famous Siberian
antiquities !
There exists a legend about a Black Stone, which appears at
the dates of great events. If you compare all the verbal dates
[343 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
of India, Tibet, Egypt and Mongolia, then their coincidence will
remind you that apart from the record of historians, there is being
set down another history of the world. Especially significant is
it to compare the testimony of completely unrelated nationalities.
The Kalmucks and Mongols recognize from traces left by
horses and camels, the origin and the quantity of the cargo.
They will say: “A horseman passed here, leading two horses.
Two horses are worn out and the third one is fresh.” Or “A
herd of horses passed by and with the herd are two horse-
men.” . . .
Different occurrences from the recent wars were related to us.
One horseman volunteered to force the surrender of a whole
regiment. He took his comrade and a big drove of horses.
“More,” he said, “is not needed.” He drove the horses in the di-
rection of the wind and he himself went with his comrade to ne-
gotiate. He demanded, “Surrender your arms at once, otherwise
I will lead my whole army upon you.” They reflected, perceiv-
ing the pillars of dust from the drove; then they surrendered
the army. And the audacious fellow commanded his comrade
to go in advance and lead back the troop. Thus he forced a
whole regiment to surrender. This is not a fairy tale of Jengis-
Khan. It is a recent event.
Rumors even outride the motors — they will go on horseback for
two hundred miles to drink tea.
Again they report: “It is rumored that you were lost.” Is it
possible that for a second time they will bury one? Whence is
this unquenchable desire for slander and false inventions ? They
say that many imitations of my paintings are circulating.
They tell amusing stories and even mention several men who in
this way, using my name, earned money. They say that V. and
[344 ]
ALTAI
R. worked that way. I had a chance to see a few imitations
before the war. I remember one very large painting not un-
cleverly composed from fragments of various of my works.
The poor collector who called me to approve his purchase, was
immeasurably grieved. Friends, they may bring such imitations
to you to the Museum. Look, beware! So often it happened
that we saw paintings as well as whole albums falsely signed.
I remember one painting by Rustschitz signed with my name.
They speak about the destruction of many of my paintings —
“Call of the Serpent” is lost from the Academy. “The March,”
“Unkrada,” “Building of the Walls,” “Sviatogor” and others are
lost. Of course they consider them lost — but who knows? The
paths of objects are so unexpected. Collecting Old Masters, we
came across such subtle play of life.
A woman traveler, a painter, visits us. A geological expedition
comes. A conversation about artists: Juon, Mashkov, Kancha-
lovsky, Lentulof, Saryan, Kustodief hold their ground. . . . Benois
is shaky. Dobujhinsky went to Lithuania. They do not mention
Somof. They do not know that Bakst has died. The young
ones are growing. StchusefT and Stchuko go forward boldly.
The woman painter walks about, sketches old corners, gates, win-
dow casements, various beams and the little horses on cornices, as
though making an inventory before a distant journey. The vari-
ous tiny horses will depart from the roofs. Let them depart, as
well as the pattern of the chintzes. But with what will they be
replaced? The “Viennese” chair and the fading calico do not
bring in culture. Here is a task for the young: Give an image
of the future life. From factory whistles and from the peal of
bells some one has synchronized a symphony; though as yet it is
unsuccessful, the whole conception is truly resonant. And thus
for the building of a house an alert hand is necessary and dis-
[ 345 1
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
passionate labor. Here Ikon painters from Mastersky, Pale-
hovsky and Holuisky lent the work new importance.
In the East, they apply the externalization of sensitiveness not
only to separate individuals but also to groups and seemingly
to whole districts. The result is a tremendous experiment in
the application of psychic energy. And all this is being done
silently and anonymously.
Behold and be surprised: books, paintings, songs, dances and
buildings — all these are sent out upon the waves of the world
anonymously. Books are attributed, according to tradition, to a
certain author, but he himself does not put his name upon the
manuscript. Paintings are not signed; the name of the architect
of Potala is not inscribed. On faience, on ceramics, on metal art
crafts one can sometimes see the trade-mark but not the name.
And in this fundamental anonymity the East has left the West
far behind. One must learn from the East, but for that one
must absorb the psychology of the East. The East does not love
false visitors; the East easily discerns masquerading imitations.
And the East will never forget its decision. The judgment of the
East is rendered at the very first moment. All the patches of
corrections only serve to intensify the clownishness of the imi-
tative attire.
• • • • •
The discovery of Theremin: “We saw on the screen the mo-
tion of human hands which took place at the same time behind
the wall in the next room.” At last the “miraculous” becomes
“scientific.” Finally, one begins to turn to the real study of all
of the properties of energy.
Just when we did not ask; just when we did not expect, he
himself spoke and demonstrated his knowledge of special places.
Our simpletons would have considered this a fairy tale or an
[346 1
ALTAI
unusual revelation; yet here he smilingly closed his yellow khalat
and proved his knowledge of certain ones and where they live.
“And with that place, now for fifteen years there have been no
communications.”
• • • • •
To the Tashi-Lama in Peking came a group of Chinese ask-
ing for passports for the passage to Shambhala. This reminded
us of the letter which was written from Boston to Shambhala.
Whence and how has this Chinese group come together? Were
they attracted by the wanderings of Lao-Tzin? Or because
of older writings? Or by the book of the Abbot of Wu-t’ai-shan.
Some time ago one would have ridiculed that fact but now a
great deal has occurred. The literature has become so enriched
that the recent invention and “magic” have passed into the
laboratory of research. And the skeptics are indignant, but only
because of their complete ignorance and unenlightenment. Even
the most obtuse thinkers ask “What does it mean?” One may
speak about the significance of that which happens but the fact
itself by now does not remain unobserved.
They tell of the experiment of Manouilof, who has made re-
searches into the sex of plants and minerals and also into the
masculine and feminine origin of human blood. Experiment
with the mineral “pyrite” gives a result long since indicated by
the science of the East: “Pyrite produces crystals of two kinds —
one a kind of cube and the other a form of dodecahedron. If the
very same reaction is poured into the test tube with cubic crystals
— one will get a discoloration of fluid — the masculine reaction.
And if the same be performed with the dodecahedron crystals,
a purple color results — the feminine reaction.” For the West this
discovery is new but the ancient formulae of the East speak of the
dodecahedron as the Mother of the World — the feminine begin-
ning. They also point out about the purple physical feminine
[347]
emanation. You can imagine with what calm smile the scientist
of the East listens to the “new” discoveries of the West. “Hemo-
globin in the blood of animals and chlorophyle in the juice of
plants are similar in their nature.” And the scientist of the East
nods, as a sign of an age-long assent.
Know! Know without fear and in the entire measure.
When at last will people walk out of the foggy twilight of
“mysticism,” to the study of sunlit reality ? When will the dark-
ness of the cave transform itself into the radiance of space?
The horns of the deer and the jet of Kabarga up to now
are regarded as precious wares. One must make research into the
healing qualities of the powdered horn of the deer. The
spring blood which fills these woolly horns of course is per-
meated with a strong excretion. What is the difference between
the musk of the Tibetan ram and the musk of Altaian Kabarga ?
The Kabarga feeds upon the nettle of the cedar and the larch.
Altaians chew the gum of fir tree tar. All the properties of musk
must be investigated.
® • • • •
We are stopping in the former chapel of the Old Believers.
On the walls are still seen the four corners of the former ikons.
In the next room a red chalice is painted on the wall. Where-
fore ? At the gates sits a white dog. He came with us. Whence ?
The White Burkhan, of course, is also the Blessed Buddha.
In the region of Ak-Kem are traces of radio-activity. The water
in Ak-Kem is milky white. Pure Belovodye. Through Ak-Kem
the fiftieth latitude passes. We recall the conclusion of Csoma
de Koros.
• • • • •
About two o’clock in the night, on the second of August, east
[348]
ALTAI
of the village Altaiskoye, a large, powerfully luminous meteorite
fell. To the south of Verkhiniouimon, last year, on the summit of
the ridges, stones and sand were erupted as if by an explosion. A
pit was formed.
“Unspilled Chalice” — the most blue, the most reverberant
mountains. Purity itself as in Phalut. And he carries from the
mountains his chalice.
• • • • •
“The Blacksmith forges the fate of humanity, on the Siver
Mountains.” The grave of Sviatogor is on Siver Mountain. The
Siver Mountains — Sumyr, Subur, Sumbyr, Siberian-Sumeru: The
exact center from the four oceans. In Altai, on the right bank
of Katun, there is a mountain. Its significance is being likened
to the world-mountain, Sumeru. Sayn Galabyn sudur is “the
narrative of the Good Era.”
• • • • •
All the trees were charmed against harming Baldur. One
mistletoe was forgotten — and the arrow from this very mistletoe
struck Baldur. All the animals gave blessings for the building
of the temple in Lhasa, but one, the gray bull, was forgotten and
he was the one who, in the form of an impious king, rebelled
later against the true teaching. Nothing that exists can be neg-
lected in the structure. “Even a mouse will gnaw through the
knots.”
• • • • •
Katun is welcoming. The Blue Mountains are resonant.
White is Beluha. The flowers are vivid and the green grasses
and cedars are calming. Who has said that Altai is cruel and un-
approachable ? Whose heart has become fearful of the austere
power and beauty ?
On the seventeenth of August we beheld Beluha. It was so
clear and reverberant. Verily, Zvenigorod ! *
*Zvenigorod — The City of Bells.
[349]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Beyond Beluha there appears the crests of Kuen lun so beloved
to the heart, and beyond that “the mountain of the Divine
Queen” and “Five Treasure Troves of the Snows.” And herself,
“the Queen of the White Snows,” and all the written and un-
written, the spoken and the unspoken.
“Between the Irtysh and Argun. Over Kokushi. Through
Bogogorshi, over Ergor itself, rides a horseman.” . . .
[350]
Part XI
MONGOLIA
(1926-1927)
Bang! A shot. The bullet pierced the window. It is good
that George had just gone away from the window at that very
moment. Who shot ? Was it intentional, or was it a prank ?
We are forewarned: “But you will not depart.” I answer:
“We shall depart as always. We shall not delay even for one
day.” Our Americans arrive. Boris is with them. The doctor
is annexed. After a long correspondence, N. K. is found. Lud-
milla and Raya will go with us: the first thirteen-year-old girl
traveler into Tibet.
The Tibetan Donyer (Consul) is coming. He brings a Tibetan
passport and a letter to the Dalai-Lama. The Donyer gives
such passports to pilgrims. Our knowledge of Buddhism entitles
us to receive the same attention.
Four Buriat lamas come and ask us to take them with us.
They saw the banner of the Expedition — the image of Maitreya
with Ak-Dorje on top. All the servants have put little signs of
Ak-dorje upon their caps. And like recruits they walk through
Ulan Bator Khoto. George put them through a military drill.
We bought eight more rifles. Everybody is amused by a Lewis
machine gun standing in the dining room. Let them know that
we have enough arms !
Coincident with our maneuvers, a Mongolian detachment was
practicing to storm the stronghold. And on the other side our
convoy went through the same maneuvers. You can imagine
[35i ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
how completely confounded were both parties when they con-
fronted each other!
• • • • •
“The Ruler of Shambhala.” * This painting coincides un-
expectedly with the prophecy of the Lama. “The Great Rider
appeared and the heads of all people were turned towards the
west, but the hand of the Rider turned all peoples toward the
East.” A representative from the Mongolian government comes
and begs us to make a design for the temple-shrine where will
be placed the painting “Ruler of Shambhala” with other venerated
objects.
• • • • •
The publication of “Foundations of Buddhism,” and “New
Era” is being completed. It is difficult to give a fine form to the
book in a little printer’s shop. The former lama, now a lith-
ographer, lovingly redraws for the book “The Conquering
Buddha” with the fiery sword. Again the messenger from the
Government comes. They beg for permission to translate into
Mongolian “Foundations of Buddhism.”
Much expectation and excitement! Nevertheless, we did not
delay our departure. E. P. tensely stands at the threshold and
says: “I await the solution of Him, who solves all things.” And
here comes a telegram. G. hustles about; he knows much. One
can sometimes converse with him about the most sacred legends.
It was he also who told us of a Mongolian version of the visit
of the Teacher to Mongolia. It is strange to have heard the
beginning of the tale in India and its conclusion in Mongolia.
Thus is the entire desert encircled by one intense thought. We
do not know how Tibet will greet us. If Ladak, called “Little
Tibet,” is beautiful, then “Great Tibet” must be unusually majes-
tic. But often humanity errs in its appraisals and the small
*The painting of Nicholas Roerich presented to the Mongolian government.
[352 ]
MONGOLIA
“proves to be great.” Unprejudiced, without superstition, we shall
observe the reality.
Again all sorts of difficulties and expectations. And again
unexpected friends. Among them the Esperantist. They help us
to depart and prove an attentive escort. Like towers, are the
highly packed automobiles.
There is a fully accredited story that on the river Iro an extraor-
dinary child was born. Shortly after his birth he pronounced a
prophecy and then became normal. The prophecy proved to be
the same one about the future Mongolia as was given to us by a
lama in Sikhim. It is well remembered in Mongolia.
The action of will used at a great distance has been remarkably
developed in Mongolia. Quite recently one young Mongolian
lama wrote a book about the path to Shambhala. Books about this
path written by the Tashi-Lama, the Abbot of Wu-t’ai-shan, a
Buriat lama, are also known. The aspirations of the Mongols all
face in this direction. Many other neighboring nationalities also
understand all the reality of the meaning of Shambhala. Some
of the Mongolian lamas know a great deal. Whenever we asked
them questions, their answers showed deep knowledge. But then,
it is not so easy to win their confidence in spiritual matters. Of
the monasteries close to Ulan Bator Khoto, the most far-famed
is the so-called Manjushri Khit. From it the late Bogdo-Gegen
was kidnapped. All places in Mongolia are enveloped in legend.
In the camp among the yurtas and the herds, upon the hills of
the Gobi, the Mongols of our convoy are heard singing a song
about Shambhala recently composed by a Mongolian hero, Suche
Bator: “We march to the holy war of Shambhala. Let us be
reborn in the sacred land.” . . . And thus, valiantly and reso-
nantly, the Mongols send out their hopes. Even in new Mon-
golia they know the reality of Shambhala. In Ulan Bator Khoto,
[353 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
the site for the future Dukang of Shambhala is already fenced
around. The Mongols know about the arrival of the Ruler of
Shambhala to Erdeni Dzo and Narabanchi. They know about
the great “Guardians.” They know of the great times. They
know of the Chalice of Buddha which, after it left Peshawar,
was preserved in Karashahr and disappeared for a time. They
know of the coming of the Blessed Ones to Altai. They know
the true significance of Altai. They know of the White Moun-
tain. They know the sacred signs above the ancient Suburgan
near Khotan. They know the news from China. Through all
the silent spaces of Asia is heard the voice of the spirit of the
future. They know that the time of Maitreya is come.
• • • • •
In the automobiles, crossing the small rivers in the spring and
because of the lack of roads, we have ten breakdowns a day.
If one can traverse seventy miles it is indeed a lucky day. Ordi-
narily, one does not make even twelve miles. Many Kereksurs
(old graves), Kurgans: traces of great migrations. A remark-
able stone figure — they say that here lived a notorious bandit and
that now he has become a guard of the Path. The travelers smear
the lips of the statue with grease in order to request a favor.
Konchak, our servant, stands for long before this image and re-
peatedly demands that we have a good road. On the way,
skulls and bones, the corpse of a baby wrapped in a sheepskin
coat. T urpans, wild geese, all sort of ducks fly toward the north.
Herds of kulans.
It is evident that we shall not go far in our automobiles. The
road is not marked. The local guides themselves confuse the
direction. And, for the most part, the automobiles are altogether
poor. If only we can reach the border, the monastery Yum-
Beise. There we shall have to take camels.
[354]
MONGOLIA
We hear legends. That which was told us about the visitation
by the “Ruler of Shambhala” to monasteries in Narabanchi and
Erdeni Dzo is confirmed in various palaces. Yum-Beise is an
unpleasant, windy place. The monastery itself is not an inviting
one and the lamas are not gracious. Beyond and above the
monastery, on the mountain, a tremendous phallus is erected. . . .
There are endless negotiations concerning the engaging of the
caravan. They propose to go as far as Chibochen (beyond
Anhsi) in three weeks. By the end of April it is not good for
camels; by that time it is hot, the camels are shedding, and during
this time their strength leaves them. An old lama guide, a
smuggler, is found, who offers to lead us by a short road through
uncultivated parts. Usually no one goes there, fearing lack
of water, but the lama has passed there no less than twenty times
and knows that there are wells, streams and springs. But at this
season even on the general road the wells also dry up and for this
reason it is best to take the short way. The only danger of this
new direction is the presence of the bands of the notorious Ja-
Lama. But he was himself killed and his fellows are dispersed.
Notwithstanding this, the region is dangerous. The lama guide
assures us that now one may pass these places safely. We sus-
pect our guide — may he not himself have been in the confidence
of Ja-Lama? He knows too much of him and is too sure that
we shall pass safely with him. He knows how Ja-Lama made
his prisoners erect his city citadel which we shall pass on our
way. We decided to go by this new way, however.
• • • • •
Limitless seems the Central Gobi. White — pink — blue — and
slaty black. The gales bury the flat slopes with a layer of stones.
One must not be caught in this stony gale. The danger in the
Gobi is that the wells may have dried. Sometimes the mouths
of the wells are filled with fallen animals. One can avoid the
[355 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
lack of water by taking another direction to the east, although
the Chinese bands infest these regions.
Night. Fires. Sentries. Recently within this canyon a cara-
van was looted. Suddenly the night silence is broken by a
loud rifle shot. The fires are stamped out. A line of our men,
armed with revolvers, lies low. Who opened fire on our camp ?
From somewhere comes the barking of a dog. We call
for a volunteer to reconnoiter. It is decided that if he begins
to sing, all is well. A vigilant silence and, at last, out of the
darkness comes a merry song: “A Chinaman, proprietor of a
caravan, did the shooting. He got frightened at the sight of our
fires and thought we were robbers.”
Nyerva, leader of the caravan, whistles to attract the wind in
the heat of noon. Like a barterer of winds on the shores of
ancient Greece, the Mongol whistles long in a minor key ; and the
tips of the desert grass stir as in a breeze. The breeze rises
and the Mongol winks, calling our attention to this. Barterers
of winds! What a subject for an opera or symphony.
From the white pebbles on the bosom of the Gobi the hand of
an unknown traveler has fashioned certain figures. There are
sacred inscriptions; but there are also erotic drawings repulsive
amidst the majesty of the desert.
Again precautions are necessary. Again it is necessary to don
Mongolian kaftans. We approach the city of the notorious robber
Ja-Lama or Tushegun Lama. We will camp somewhere nearby
for the night. In the dense twilight some objects loom dark
behind the hills. A dog barks. . . . Although Ja-Lama himself
was recently killed by the Mongols, his bands are not yet scat-
tered. We did not light our fires for the night. We double the
sentries. In the morning we hear the astonished exclamation —
[356 ]
MONGOLIA
“Here is the city above us!” On the hills high up are perched
the towers and walls — a veritable citadel. It is imposing and
picturesque. George and P. K., with rifles ready, go to investigate,
and the Mongols bid them farewell with warnings of caution.
We watch through our field glasses. But, finally they appear
on the wall — it means that the robbers now have deserted the
castle.
Ja-Lama was not an ordinary bandit. He was a graduate of
Law from Petrograd University and became a high lama of
Tibet, possessing great occult knowledge. Would a night-robber
have erected this city upon a high elevation, visible from
afar? What thoughts and dreams fretted the gray head of Ja-
Lama, which was carried for long afterward on a spear through
the bazaars of Mongolia ? . . . All through the Central Gobi, the
legend of Ja-Lama will persist for a long time. What a scenario
for a moving picture!
• • • • ■
Some peculiar riders approach the caravan and ask the Mon-
gols about the amount of arms we carry. The Mongols whisper
and gesticulate, indicating something very great and then inform
us — “Ja-Lama’s men; they will not attack us.”
We near Anhsi. Vague rumors reach us about some Chinese
troops. To encounter them would be worse than Ja-Lama’s men.
We will encircle Anhsi by night. But Nivra loses the way. Dawn
finds us before the walls of Anhsi. They turn the camels and
hasten to cross the broad, swift stream. By evening we shall
already have left the boundaries of Gansu, and shall enter the re-
gion of Kuku-nor. On the mountains are the ruins of fortresses —
landmarks of the former rebellions of the Dungans.
Swift streams. Before us is the snowy ridge of Nan-shan.
[357]
ALTAI. HIMALAYA
The Central Gobi is ended. Interior Mongolia, waterless, with
its eroded auriferous ridges, is ended. In the mighty bottoms
of these departed streams are concealed all manner of remains
of the giants of antiquity. It is the first of June. Already for
ten days we have been camping on the silvery banks of Shih-
pao-ch’ang. Nan-Shan glows in the sunrise. The mountain
stream murmurs. Whitely gleam the herds of goats and rams.
Riders speed by us — is there any news? Rumors are in the air.
When shall we advance? They try to frighten us by telling us
not before September. There are many reasons: The grass must
thicken. The camels must fatten and their wool must grow;
and also the treacherous swamps of Tsaidam must dry. The Blue
River will also subside by fall. We await news from Su-chow
and Chamnar, and in the meantime, sly Machen, pupil of
the Chinese, overcharges us. The old cheat calls me “the Ameri-
can King” and frequently during the day gallops over from
his camp to our own.
• ■ • • •
Because we successfully administered medicine to them, the
Mongols request us to invoke the rain, because of the unprece-
dented drought. They offer us five dollars from each yurta.
In spite of all the machinations of Machen we moved on to
Sharagol under the ridge named after Humboldt. We crossed
the cloudy quicksands of the Sharagol river with its endless tribu-
taries just in time. Konchok almost drowned his gray Chinese
horse. We camp beside a mountain spring on the foothill before
Ulan davan (16,000 feet) on the road to Tibet.
The Tibetans relate that during the time of the flight of the
Dalai Lama in 1904, at the Chang-thang crossing, the men and
horses felt a severe tremor. The Dalai Lama explained to them
that they were at the hallowed border of Shambhala. Does the
[ 358 ]
MONGOLIA
Dalai Lama know much of Shambhala ? The Tashi Lama knows
far more.
• • • • •
On July fifth we celebrated the Festival of Maitreya. In the
tent of Shambhala a long service was performed and neighboring
Mongols came and sang with our lamas.
• • • • •
Mongolian “noblemen” drape around themselves the broad
pleated medieval kaftans. They wear gray felt caps, as though
from the paintings of Gozzoli, and sacred chains and amu-
lets around their necks. Whirlwind and sandstorm. At two
o’clock in the afternoon we had to box ourselves tightly within
the tents and light the candles.
I draw a plan of a Suburgan on the site of Shambhala where
the Great Guardian stopped for the night. On July eleventh
Nyerva from Kumbum monastery brings the prophecies and the
new prayer of the Tashi Lama to Shambhala.
For three days P. K. has been galloping to Mahoi for camels.
Three new books are being compiled. The peaks glow white
with snow; the air is fresh and the stillness recalls our Himalayan
heights, toward which our spirits yearn. The Mongols admire
the views of New York. For them America is a Promised Land.
They whisper: “It is the attainment of Shambhala!” Not a
day passes without its conversations on miraculous America.
• • • • •
On July fourteenth the annual holiday of the Mongols is cele-
brated. They are building a new obo (a kind of Suburgan);
there are races and festivity! The young people of our camp
beg us to let them go to the festival.
Since morning we have discussed the need of a Pan-Asiatic
language which, at least elementally, would reconcile the three
hundred dialects of Asia. In the evening our lamas read the
[359]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
prayers to Maitreya and Shambhala. If the West could under-
stand what meaning the word Shambhala or Gessar has for Asia!
The rain and wind begin. The middle of July is more like
autumn. At night the rain beats on the mountains.
In the midst of the rain and storm, most unexpected news
reaches us. Such conquest of space is amazing. There is even
news of the passing here of the Mahatma forty years ago. Again
a veritable buran and showers. It is cold.
On July twentieth directions of the utmost importance reached
us. They are difficult to execute but they may lead to certain
results. No one in the caravan as yet suspects our immediate
program.
On the next day also important news came and once again
our fellow-travelers did not know of it. Compare these dates
with your events. Gold was brought from Ulan Davan. Once
again the gale. Raya, who is already thirteeen years old, has
never yet heard of Christ. Thus do the fundamental teachings
vanish out of life.
July twenty-fourth. This is not only our day, but also the day
of the completion of our Suburgan. Mongols help in the erection
of it and bring the treasure — norbu-rinpoche — tiny stones and
seeds to put into the chalice of the Suburgan. Within is also
laid the Ak-dorje and the Maitreya Sanga.
Lai — in Hindu means red.
The end of July: “I am going joyously into the battle.” Lapis
exilis — the wandering stone. Yesterday the Buriats foretold some-
thing impending. Precisely, “I am sending the best currents for
[360]
MONGOLIA
the happy decision of the works.” We decide to start through
Tsaidam to Tibet on August 19th. We shall dare to cross
dangerous Tsaidam in a new direction.
• • • • •
Toward evening on the twenty-eighth N. V. came galloping
along with his sword and the ring. We had hardly time to hear
him, when, down the canyon, in place of the peaceful stream,
swept a devastating torrent. This was the result of the strange
night-tumult in the mountains. The torrent swept away the
kitchen, the dining tent, George’s tent. Much was destroyed and
many Mongol yurtas were swept away. We walked up to our
waist in water. Many irreplaceable things were destroyed. N. V.
told us that on the eve of his departure, for some inexplicable
reason, the tankas sent by us to Y. were destroyed by fire. It is
significant ! Correlate !
• • • • •
We complete the Suburgan. The Elder Lama of Tsaidam
comes to consecrate it. Prince Kurlik Beise sends envoys; he
offers his caravan. It is significant because the Prince usually
molests travelers.
On August fifth — something remarkable! We were in our
camp in the Kukunor district not far from the Humboldt Chain.
In the morning about half-past nine some of our caravaneers no-
ticed a remarkably big black eagle flying above us. Seven of us
began to watch this unusual bird. At this same moment another
of our caravaneers remarked, “There is something far above the
bird.” And he shouted in his astonishment. We all saw, in a direc-
tion from north to south, something big and shiny reflecting the
sun, like a huge oval moving at great speed. Crossing our camp
this thing changed in its direction from south to southwest. And
we saw how it disappeared in the intense blue sky. We even
had time to take our field glasses and saw quite distinctly an oval
[361 ]
ALTAI. HIMALAYA
form with shiny surface, one side of which was brilliant from
the sun.
• • • • ■
On August seventh the Suburgan was consecrated. Gegen of
Tsaidam arrived; about thirty Mongolian guests also came. We
held the service to the Suburgan. They promised to guard the
Suburgan of Shambhala. If only the Dungans would not de-
stroy it!
There was revolt among our Buryats. They went to the Chi-
nese with a false report about us. Instead of the rebellious Buryats
we took three Torguts with us. They are good shots.
• • • • •
Following the false report of the Buryats, the Chinese soldiers,
with an official of the Sining Amban, arrived. They examined
our passports. Of course, again extortion. We paid the Chinese.
The Mongols are indignant about this incident.
• • • • o
Unexpected guests come swiftly from out the desert. Toward
evening a mysterious stranger, in a beautiful gold embroidered
Mongol garb, came galloping along. Who was he? Hurriedly
he entered the tent. Without naming himself he said that he
was our friend, that he must warn us concerning an attack pre-
pared against us on the border of Tibet. He warned us of the
need of increasing our guards and our reconnoitering troops.
Thus he spoke and galloped away. Who was he? Our lamas
say: “He is either a thief or a robber or a collector for the
monastery.” No one liked the luxurious garments of the stranger.
But he was a friend. He desired to help. Again an operatic
episode.
• • • • •
On August nineteenth we started through Tsaidam to Tibet.
A memorable night in Tsaidam — when we crossed the salt
marshes. We could not stop but had to go a hundred and
[362]
MONGOLIA
twenty miles without a halt. In the darkness of night the road
is invisible and yet we crossed the most dangerous parts during
the night without realizing it. On either side of the narrow
path are bottomless pits. If the horse trips it is impossible to
extricate him. One false step and all is finished. It was diffi-
cult but at last Tsaidam was crossed in a new and in the shortest
direction. There are many errors on the maps.
When we passed Tsaidam, which is by no means as the maps
indicate it, one unconsciously looked toward the west. There
glowed the endless pink sands. We recalled that between Tsai-
dam and Kuen lun the maps show a complete desert area. Of
course, this entire space is unexplored. Whereas, in the folds of
these hills there may be much which is remarkable. In this
direction, from the regions of Khotan and Scherschen the ancient
Buddhist monasteries might have spread. There may be inter-
esting hermitages and monumental caves. But even the Mon-
gols speak little of these regions. They speak of caravans lost
in the sands, of buried cities — but all this is legendary.
The gesture of greeting of the Tsaidam Mongols is remarkable.
They uplift their arms as though paying their reverence to the
sun. It is so rhythmical and beautiful! It reminded me of the
beautiful gesture of the Hindu Brahmins that I saw in Benares
during the hour of morning prayer. In the same way I recall
the beautiful gesture of the Mussulmans when they are paying
homage to the old Mazars (tombs).
They talk about some foreigners who were in Taiginer and
bought old things. Again they say that foreigners came and
took away “Burkhans” from Tun huang. Evidently something
took place at the celebrated cave temples. There is too persistent
talk about it in different districts. Not a few things were stolen
[363]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
for the Museums of Europe — but they talk of these especial “bur-
khans” from Kashgar, from Urumchi to the very borders of the
Tibet.
Half-devoured corpses of men and horses are beside the road.
The traces of the recent battle of the Mongols and the Goloks are
seen here. The Mongols are removing their yurtas and hurrying
under the protection of Prince Kurlik Beise. Soon we approach
the Naiji Pass, the point of which our unknown well-wisher
warned us. All seems quiet but near the camp we find a fresh
camp-fire and a lost long-pipe. The place has been recently
inhabited.
In the morning we proceed as usual. In the front, George
and P. K. Then all of us on horseback — we and the lamas.
Behind at a distance the Torguts with the mules and further
behind, the caravan with camels, guarded by Golubin, Konchok
and Tsering. In front of us is a canyon between two hills.
Elena Ivanovna, always sensitive, hears the distant barking of dogs.
Suddenly across the canyon among the hills, armed riders begin
to leap, hiding between the hills. Zangin Lama shouts out
“arangan,” meaning robbers. I give the order to turn back so
that we can occupy the peak of the hill and be closer to the
Torguts. On the peak, instead of being the attacked we become
the aggressors and take command of the situation. The troop
of Panagis stops, is evidently surprised at our unexpected ma-
neuver. The Colonel with Oschir the Torgut and the Buryat
Buchaieff gallop toward them with threatening shouts. The rest
of us, ready for battle, keep watch. The Panagis, unexpectedly
caught, become confused and as a sign of submission lower their
arms. One of them holds a long spear— the sign that war is
declared. The chief thing is always to act boldly! We wanted
[364]
MONGOLIA
to buy the spear — but the Panagis said, “We cannot sell it. It
is our friend.”
The next day another attack was prepared but a terrific snow-
storm, mingled with thunder, dispersed the superstitious Panagis.
And so we crossed Naiji. We admired the tremendous herds
of wild yaks. One of them was killed by the Torguts. Before
us was the snow ridge, Angar Dakchin, or Marco Polo. How
strange to give European names to the mountains and lakes which
have their own names from ancient times. Toward night, the
Mongolian lama died of hemorrhage. It is sad.
Behind Angar Dakchin is Kokushili. The same Kokushi
which is known to the Old Believers on Altai — the seekers for
Belovodye. Not far from here also are the sacred borders. We
pass the rivers successfully. They cannot be crossed on horse-
back in spring or in the summer. But now, in the fall the water
is not higher than the reins of the horses. Only two horses
sank. Even the Blue River with its swift current was not an
obstacle.
We look for the Tibetan outposts. Why are they not here?
Something glows white in the distance. . . . Snow — but there is
no snow around here. Is it a tent? But this is something truly
superb. It is a gigantic geyser of glauber salt. A snowy mass —
glistening in the sun — verily, a sacred boundary.
[365]
Part XII
TIBET
(1927-1928)
October 6th
Like black spiders with long legs, are hidden the black tents
of the Tibetans, stretched upon the longest ropes. The border
troops take our passport and suggest that we camp for two days,
until they bring the answer of General Horchichab, that is the
chief ruler of the Province, Hor, and the chief commander of the
northern front. What flowery titles!
We camp in the middle of a marshy plain overgrown with
thin, prickly weeds. On the horizon is the lake and dead moun-
tains. I call them dead because this is a veritable cemetery. Long
ago, these were great mountains, perhaps rivals of Everest; now
they are eroded and crumbled into small stones. The deep val-
leys became filled, forming a hill of 15,000 feet, open to the brutal
winds. Before reaching the most significant sites, before the
heavenly Himalayas, one falls into horrible marshes. The horses
are slipping and stumbling among the ugly clumps. There is not
a bird, not an animal.
George slumps in his saddle and almost falls off his horse.
We rush to him and take him off. He has almost no heart
beat. Two strong doses of digitalis are administered. We rub
his hands. He recovers.
Further ahead Elena Ivanovana begins to feel badly. From the
rear guard we are notified that Lama Malonof fell off his horse
and lies unconscious on the road. The doctor hurries to him.
Thus inhospitably does Tibet greet us.
[366]
From a painting by Nicholas Roerich Roerich Museum.
TSAM IN MONGOLIA
TIBET
A multi-colored banner with a bent staff. Music — drums and
bagpipes. The firing of a salute. Deep in the tent is the little
figure of the General in a vivid yellow khalat. On his round
Chinese cap is a crosslike Ak-dorje of rubies. He makes an in-
gratiating speech and again requests us to stay in his camp, if only
for two days. Then the General accompanies us into our camp
with banners and music and the motley crowd forming his suite.
The impression from our visit to Kap-sho-pa is one of insignifi-
cance. The banner has become bent; his sword hangs like a piece
of futile theatrical property; under the precious stones, dirt is
accumulated: This is old Chinese stuff which the Chinese them-
selves have rejected. It is no longer fit for life and has lost
all its former decorativeness, because the quality of the handiwork
is gone, as well as the finesse of the art. One perceives only medi-
ocrity and ugliness. Probably the General thought that the im-
pression from his yellow khalat would be very great. But even
his closest bodyguard was ragged and adorned with buttons from
three armies — none of these Tibetan; and in the place where a
foreign button was lacking, a safety pin was stuck. The rifles
were of doubtful fitness, but there were plenty of musicians.
Again drums and salutes from the guns. The General, with all
this motley crowd, accompanies us to our tent. At the same time
he is curious to examine our things, proclaiming that “the hands
of small people must not touch the belongings of great people.”
We are told that the General came to settle some uprising
among the Horpa. At the same time he placed a ban on the
hunting of the musk deer. It is quite incomprehensible why one
is allowed to kill domestic sheep and yaks, when wolves and
foxes and everything savage are protected. But the population
holds to a different opinion and secretly hunts kulans.
[367]
ALTAI-HI MALAYA
Our Tibetan, Chimpa, is dying. He was useful to us during
the encounter with the Panagis and when the Mongols decided
to desert us after Naiji. But when Chimpa reached Tibet he
asserted his real nature and at the crossing to the camp of the
General he left us, took our five camels, our tent and severed rela-
tions. This was his gratitude for all our care during his sickness
and for our priceless medicines!
Evidently even a Tibetan cannot withstand the local climate.
This is the third death in our caravan. The Mongolian lama
died from pneumonia. The lama from Kharchin died because
of the altitude. Did not the bears sense the presence of a dead
body when they crept closer to the camp the night of his death ?
And they did not have to wait long. By morning his corpse was
left to them.
The General prepares to depart for Kham. Finally he accepts
our gift and disappears. And the caressing two days are trans-
formed into a cruel five months of encampment in summer
tents, in a frost of sixty Celsius, under whirlwinds and gales, at
a height of 15,000 feet. A major and some ragamuffin soldiers
are stationed with us. We are forbidden to speak to the passing
caravans. We are forbidden to buy food from the population.
The caravan slowly perishes. Every day there are new corpses
near the tents, and packs of wild dogs noisily divide their new
repast. Of 104 caravan animals, ninety perish. Five men die —
three Mongolian lamas and two Tibetans. Malonoff’s body be-
comes swollen from an attack of his heart and finally he also dies.
The wife of the major who was stationed with us gets sick of
pneumonia and dies.
Gryphons and eagles fight with packs of dogs over the prey.
My letter to the Dalai Lama is found torn on the road. The
letters to Colonel Bailey, British Resident of Sikhim, and to
the Consul General of the United States in Calcutta are seized.
[368 ]
TIBET
We are forbidden to return or to move on. In spite of George’s
knowledge of the Tibetan language we can only study Tibetan
life in its starkness; but we cannot help our condition. They
tell us that the telegraph between Lhasa and India is destroyed
because now Tibet does not need communication with the
“Pellings.” They refuse to take into consideration the doctor’s
certificate about our illness. They say that our passport was lost
on the road although witnesses deny this invention.
Instead of the General’s promised permission to proceed we
remain on a plain exposed to the winds. The Tibetans tell us
that the General’s messenger to Lhasa disappeared on the road.
Instead of helping, the Major prevents us from buying food in
the neighboring villages. He forbids communication with the
passing caravans and is without any feeling of compunction in
the exchange of Chinese dollars. The doctor is very pessimistic
and prophesies fatal illness because of the increasing frost. N. V.
offers to go in disguise to India, but without knowledge of the
language and with his noticeable height, this would end dis-
astrously.
The entire population of black Horpa, like small Niebelungen,
seem full of unrest. They sleep in a seated posture. They eat
raw meat. They are only covered with half-rags — black from the
smoke of the fire — and skins. They whisper, “The entire district
is now covered with snows such as never before. Our yaks and
sheep will perish. We shall not have Tsampa (barley). Our
children will die and we shall die. And all this misfortune is
because our government treats great travelers in such an inhuman
way.”
The lamas predict that everything will turn out well, and that
the messenger with a propitious answer is already coming, that
to-morrow he will arrive. But the days pass. The frost and gale
increase. On the white plain no one is seen. The last horses and
[369]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
camels are falling. During the night the shivering animals come
close to the tents, pulling the ropes as if they are knocking. And
at dawn we find them dead. And our men, huddled in sheep-
skins, pull them a few steps away from the camp. Otherwise the
dangerous wild dogs and gryphons, the grave diggers, would give
us no rest. One pack of dogs — about fifteen — has already at-
tacked me. Every day our fire-arms are at hand. The Major
wants to buy our arms, but in this country one must guard one’s
arms.
Again frost and gales. Finally there is an uprising followed by
the secession of our Buryat lamas. They thought that by slander
against us they would improve their position. They were com-
pletely unable to obtain work.
And so each day goes by amidst the frozen plain with the dull
outlines of the dead mountains. Then we make a short move
from Chunargen to Sharugen in the vicinity of the Bon-po mon-
astery: Only about two hours of marching and again the same
detention. We requested permission to visit General Kap-sho-pa
in his encampment at Kham. We were told: “Me, me, me,”
which means, “No.” We asked to be permitted to pass through
Eastern Tibet again. Again, “Me, me, me.” Everything is “Me,
me, me.” At the same time the General writes us letters about
the “drops of clemency which are dripping from the respendent
fingers of the Dalai Lama.” But weeks go by. And finally the
governors of Nagchu themselves come.
It is quite unprecedented that both governors should at once
leave their province and come personally. They come with black
eye glasses, in woolly fur caps. They are noisy. They are aston-
ished that we gave importance to the Tibetan passport and alto-
gether conduct themselves unreasonably. One of them is a lama,
rumored to have strangled the Amban of Sining. The other,
a sly old Manchurian official. We endure all with great pa-
[37o!
TIBET
tience. Now they will transport us to Nagchu but it will be a
continuation of the same detention. They will demand gifts.
But somehow, somewhere, we shall move, though perhaps in the
most roundabout way. Some of us hope that our detention will
not exceed ioo days, but it will be more correct to assume 150
days and several additional days for delays on the road. Thus
we must count the entire detention as lasting half a year. Of
course during this time the Tibetans have afforded us an unusual
opportunity to become acquainted with their life, customs and
ethics. Without communications with governors, generals, dzong
pons, officers, elders and lamas, we would not have any assurance
about the reality of Tibet.
Everywhere are the signs of the cross. The old Mongolian
coins of Nestorian khans have a cross, and over an ancient Bud-
dhist monastery near Peking is a cross. On the seat of the
saddle is also a cross and the reins are also fitted out with a cross.
Even upon the stones of Ladak and Sinkiang are crosses. Nes-
torians and Manicheans passed broadly through Asia. On the
frescoes of the monasteries are crosses. In the design of the
kaftan, on the beads, on the necklaces, on the amulets — always
the very same cross: Not the swastika with the streams of fire, but
of equal arms, the eternal symbol of life. On the Chinese hats
of Tibetan generals glows a ruby, crosslike dorje. The steed of
happiness carries its sign. All bronze fibulae, probably from the
tombs, are formed of a cross in a circle.
Everywhere are the same signs of Chintamani. The little
pillars of the houses and the clay-beaten walls are marked by this
thrice-powerful image. The mules, the wrought silver vessels,
the military banners, the prayer banners, the wood-cut on the
page of a book are strengthened by the symbol of power.
Compare the present tale with its original source: Now one
[ 371 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
says: “And great hunger descended upon earth and people
perished and could not longer endure. Then the Blessed
Bodhisattvas sent a shower of rice. There was such plenty of
food that not only were all the people fully sustained but they
also brought mountains of rice and erected temples and chortens
of it. The temples were of such dimensions that it took several
years to walk around them, and one chief chorten could only be
encircled in several days. This place exists upon an island where
formerly flourished the true teaching of the Blessed One.”
One must understand it thus: Great spiritual hunger descended
upon earth. And people could no longer exist in such dreadful
conditions. Then the Great Teacher sent a true shower of
spiritual food. Humanity which was exalted by this benediction
erected great monuments of spiritual achievements. The meas-
urements of these achievements are unencompassable. The
teaching of Shambhala exists in a fortified place. And its power
will soon become manifest.
One cannot believe any statement. All around us is death.
For five months on the main road to China and Mongolia only
three caravans passed. The Tibetan nomads whisper about the
difficult times for Lhasa. Of course under such conditions the
country cannot exist. Finally the governors of Nagchu become
satisfied with the gifts, and after receiving the information that
our money is exhausted, decide to send us out by a roundabout
way through Chang-thang to Namru Dzong, Shentsu Dzong,
through passes of 20,600 feet not marked on maps, to Saga-
Dzong, across the Brahmaputra, to Tingri-Dzong, Shekar-Dzong,
Kampa-Dzong and through Sepo-la to Sikhim. Evidently they
have decided to show us all religions of Tibet so that no doubts
should be left in our mind about this country. It is not an
easy way. Nobody has yet crossed from Ulan Bator Khoto to
Sikhim.
[372]
TIBET
The monasteries of Bon-po of the Black faith, hostile to Buddha,
have a curious interest. In the Black Faith, which as a Black
Mass exactly inverts the ritual of the Buddhist faith, one sees
only denial of Buddha, and denunciation of Buddha and of all
Buddhists as enemies. If the Buddhists encircle the altars from
left to right, the Bon-po takes the opposite direction. If the
Swastika of the Buddhist turns in the direction of the sun, that
of the Bon-po must be turned in the opposite direction. They
have invented their own saints and special sacred books. They
have invented a special protector who replaces Buddha; and if
you study the biography of this legendary protector you will be
astonished to find the same details and events as in the life of
Buddha; he is also supposed to be of royal family. The Bon-po
do not allow Buddhists to enter their temples, and acknowledge
neither the Tashi Lama nor the Dalai Lama. For them the Dalai
Lama is only a civil ruler collecting taxes.
They are very friendly with foreigners because they believe
that foreigners have nothing to do with Buddhism. In the begin-
ning they greeted us heartily and proposed that we study their
books and visit their temples, where we saw many inverted
Buddhist symbols. But when they understood that we were in
sympathy with Buddhism, their attitude entirely changed. You
can understand our astonishment in finding such things in a
so-called Buddhist country. As I said, they are numerous and
well-to-do and are very self-assertive. It is not a secret sect and
Tibetans told us that now Bon-po is again increasing. Not only
have these people an invented Buddha but they have mysterious
deities of Swastika.
This recalls the prehistoric times, the primitive religion of
fire-worship of the Druids which has here been corrupted into
the incomprehensibly strange deities of Swastika. Instead of the
sacred word, Aum, they use the word “A.” In the old occult
teaching the same expression, “A,” is used for Materia Matrix.
[373 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
It would be interesting to study the origins of Bon-po, as perhaps
something of the Druid and old fire-worship would be found.
It is inexplicable why the Dzong-pons, officials of Tibetan
Dzongs (fortresses), show themselves from the most ugly side.
The people tell dark tales.
The ruins of old Tibet are interesting: These ancient towers
and walls were molded by an aspiring type of people. Their
builders knew about Gessar Khan and about the Ruler of Sham-
bhala. Here also were the Ashrams of the great Mahatmas.
But now there is nothing left of this.
I recall the stones of the “Tchud” — tombs on Altai. There
passed the Goths who penetrated all Europe with their influence.
And here in the Trans-Himalayas we meet the very same ancient
tombs. We find places of ancient shrines which carry one’s
thoughts to the sun-cults of the Druids. The swords of the
northern inhabitants of the Trans-Himalayas might have been
taken out of the Goth graves on the South Russian steppes. The
fibulae of Gothic burials — do they not remind you of the buckles
of Tibetan tribes. And why was the site of Lhasa some time ago
called Gotha according to missionary chronicles? And whence
the name of the tribe Gotl? Whence, where and how did the
forefathers of the Goths migrate, driven out by glaciers and by
the severe moraines? In the crystallized daily life of the north-
ern Tibetans are there not found the ancient traits of their de-
parted brothers? It is astonishing; one Hor-pa resembles Moliere.
Another would fit the type of d’Artagnan. The third, resembles
an Italian corsair. The fourth, with long strands of hair, is a
distortion of a portrait of Hals or Palamedes; and that black
and somber one, with an aquiline nose, is he not the executioner
of Philip the Second?
And finally in the district of Doring (meaning the Long Stone)
we found a real field of menhirs such as in Karnak. During the
[374]
TIBET
two marches which followed we found three more small groups
of menhirs. For me it was a great joy to see this indubitable sign
of Druidic antiquity.
• • • • •
“Ki-hoho” rings out the call from the camp of Goloks. “Hoi-
he” answers our camp. And so the whole night the enemies
are mutually warned about the incessant vigilance of our camp.
But of course the Goloks are already informed about our arms
and have taken well into consideration the extent of our military
capacity. The verdict was in our favor, and to-day we shall see
the friendly faces of the dangerous nomads.
The frost at dawn is cruel. As usual, below 70 degrees Celsius.
In the morning the doctor’s cognac is frozen. One can imagine
what a frost it is, when the strong wine becomes frozen. The
doctor is pessimistic as before and expects danger. The health of
N. V. and P. K. is bad. Death is predicted for Ochir. Ludmilla
and Raya — or as Tibetans call them, Milla and Raiya — keep
well.
• • • • •
What tiresome hills are between Chunargan and Nagchu. The
mountains have long since crumbled and now the heaps of peb-
bles and stones are eroding. There is not a bush nor a tree ; only
high mounds with thorny prickly grass distasteful to the horses.
We were told that on reaching Central Tibet we would be aston-
ished by the change of nature. But others smile and say that
up to the very Himalayas we shall go through a cemetery of
crumbled mountains. Poor Hor-pa. Their teeth are falling out
from scurvy. The muscles are lax. They have less strength
than thirteen-year-old Raya. Of course lean raw meat and a
pinch of dirty tsampa do not make for health. And how im-
measurable is their suspicion of each other! They do not trust;
[375]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
they are afraid; they constantly anticipate all sort of misfortune.
Mongols, in spite of the sly Dunganese officials, are veritable free-
men compared with Tibetans.
The Black Faith of Bon-po is so in keeping with the black
tents. Upon long ropes, like deadly spiders, the tents gleam black
in a formless mass. Next to them are black spots: refuse or
corpses. The dryness of the air lessens the ill smell of decomposi-
tion. The piercing wind scatters the dry bones. We recall the
widely announced safe-passage of the Donyer of Urga. How
remarkably different is Tibet at a distance. They talk and whis-
per about uprisings. . . .
At each encampment the same thing happens: If we camp
in the usual village, there is no trouble in procuring animals.
If the Elder lives in the village, then one may be sure of unpleas-
ant discussions; and if one gets into a dzong or monastery he
should be prepared for a delay. Nothing is prepared, in spite
of several da-yig-\txx.trs, which were sent long since. It appears
that the da-yigs were not received; that by mistake they were
sent in another direction. It appears that villages where there
are animals are far off, and it will take several days to gather
yaks and horses. Finally it appears that as usual the peasants
simply do not listen to Dzong-pon and refuse to fulfill his order.
Sometimes the Dzong-pon suggests that we conduct all negotia-
tions directly with the peasants and write our own letter to the
villages with our own seal. And the seal must be red. Otherwise
we will have to stay near the Dzong for many days. It sometimes
also happens that one Elder suggests to us to arrest another un-
ruly one. He himself leads us to the latter’s camp and advises
us to bind him and deliver him to Lhasa. Our Torguts have
sometimes bound the hands of the Elder tightly behind his back;
then his relations come with tongues sticking out and agree to
[376]
SHARUGEN KHAM, TIBET
TIBET
fulfill the order of the Dalai Lama. Or it may happen that the
governor suggests to us to arrest the local Major and to take
him bound to Lhasa. At such a possible turn of affairs the
Major lowers his tone and becomes more civil.
Before Saga-dzong are two unexpected passes. One is shown
on the maps; but the other, a larger one of more than 20,000
feet, is not indicated. This road is shown on the maps only by
a faint outline. Evidently no one ever traversed it. There is
the other customary southern road. But the Tibetan government
sends us through this unexplored northern path.
On the way the Elders refuse to give us animals and again,
instead of the passport of the governors, they ask us to send a
letter with our seal everywhere. For our wax seal makes a greater
impression.
From the crest of the pass a powerful white chain of snowy
giants has appeared. This is already Nepal and the long-awaited
Himalayas, on the other side of the Brahmaputra.
Saga-dzong is also a small impoverished village. They eat the
corpses of animals and they mix tiny pebbles with the barley.
The mendangs are defiled by fallen dogs and all sorts of refuse.
The camp is full of excitement. We are approaching the
Brahmaputra, the very one which has its source in the sacred
Manasaravar, Lake of the Great Nagi. There is where the wise
Rig-vedas originated; there one is near the sacred Kailas; there,
pilgrims go, realizing on what a noble highway lie these sites.
Already files of pilgrims are encountered; they are gloomy and
ragged, and carry spears.
Amidst rocks and sand, lilac and purple, lies the Brahmaputra.
In May the water is not yet completely risen. The water line on
the banks shows to what extent the river rises in June with the
[377 ]
ALTAI-HIM ALA Y A
snow thaw and rains. There is still greater reverence for the
Brahmaputra than for the Blue River. The Blue Yangtse-Kyang
is the longest river in the world but the Brahmaputra, son of
Brahma, is enveloped by a rich frame-work of legends. It links
the sacred bed of the Ganges with the Himalayas; for Manasara-
var is close to Sutlej and the source of the Great Indus. There
also was born Aryavarta.
A Mongolian lama says: “There lived a remarkably versed
and scientific Geshe. But he always walked in the most modest
garment. Once the Geshe went to visit his teacher, the former
abbot of a big Labrang. The vain courtiers of the abbot saw
the humble visitor and sent him away. And again came the
Geshe and again he was evicted. Then the Geshe went to a
merchant in a bazaar and asked him to lend him a rich garment
and the Geshe put into his girdle several stones which looked
like nuggets of Chinese silver. And in this way he was at once
permitted to see his teacher. The Geshe entered, took off his
rich garment, took from out the girdle the stones, and put them
all together in a corner. Then he bowed to the stones and the
garment; and only after did he bow to his teacher.
The other asked, “Am I not your teacher? If so, why do you
bow first to the stones and the garment ?”
“It is true,” answered the Geshe that you are my teacher, “but
without these things I could not reach you, and therefore I bow
to that which brought me to my reverenced master.”
Near the Brahmaputra are five monasteries leaning against
the rocks of Chatu-gompa. Two of them are of the Red Sect,
and three of Bon-po of the Black Faith. The monasteries of the
Black Faith look far newer and cleaner than those of the Red
Sect. Out of the windows of a big Dukang or Red Monastery,
straw sticks out; several lamas of hopelessly dilapidated appear-
[378 ]
CHATU GOMPA ON THE BRAHMAPUTRA
TIBET
ance sadly stroll about. The Black Believers, on learning that
we sympathize with Buddhism, ask us not even to approach
their monasteries.
With astonishment we look at the sho, the only copper coin
of Tibet in circulation. We saw neither silver nor gold in the
dzongs nor in popular use. Although the minting of the small
copper coins is poor, yet how grandiose is the inscription: “The
government is victorious in all directions.” It is astonishing that
the half-r^o and the quarter-iAo are bigger than the sho itself.
Now comes our crossing through the Brahmaputra near the
monastery Schi-tu. There is a small boat, a ferry, with a carved
horse on the prow. It is especially difficult to load the camels.
The current is pretty swift.
• • • • •
Although Tingri-dzong is regarded as a strong fortress it
has a pitiful toylike aspect, which perhaps had importance
previous to the invention of gunpowder. There is no monastery
but only suburgans of the Red Sects with fearful images and
stripes as signs of their allegiance to the Red Sect. We recall
the same fearful images on Tantrik tankas. What can one not
see upon them? Magic swords, flayed human skins, fearful
images with projecting teeth, and inverted triangles. The entire
synthesis of Black Magic.
Near Tingri-dzong Mount Everest looms up in all its glim-
mering beauty.
We meet people who knew Sven Hedin. They praise him and
regret that he could not speak Tibetan. They have heard here
about Filchner. Some legends are already invented to the effect
that he left three boys on the Blue River, as well as a mouse, a
[379]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
weasel and prairie dog. How does this originate? Of course,
had we not known the language our entire work would have
been immensely difficult. It is fortunate that George’s knowledge
of the language is considered by the Tibetans second only to Sir
Charles Bell. The latter was called “the officer of peace,” because
of the way he conducted his negotiations.
Here is the old monastery Chung-tu, which belongs to the
royal monastery Saskya. Evidently much has transpired within
its ancient walls. Here is an umbrella above a large suburgan —
the sign of former royal distinction. And here are crumbled
Chinese walls, memories of conquered Tibet. Here is a long
file of ancient Suburgans — remembrances of the time of a peace-
ful age. Here are amassed old and new by-ways and structures.
Another ancient place: Shekar-dzong. When the Tibetans
were bold eagles, they were not afraid of soaring up to the steep
rocks to mount their stronghold-sanctuaries upon the sharp
promontories. There is a wealth of decoration on towers, pass-
ages and temples. But now Tibetans have descended to the
valley. The chieftains are afraid to live in the castles and huddle
below. Only from afar are the old dzongs of Tibet attractive.
The prices for products are high to the point of absurdity. A
sack of twenty-nine pounds of poor grain, of which five pounds
are stones, costs eleven norsangs which is about nine rupees in the
dzongs. A little piece of barley sugar is about four or five rupees.
A horse, for two days’ travel, eight rupees ; and a pack-yak, four
rupees.
Our marches are not of even length. Either they are very
short, not exceeding four hours on horseback. Or, suddenly,
they last for nine hours almost at a trot. We hasten toward
Kampa-dzong, the last dzong before the border of Sikhim. But
[380]
From a painting by N icholos Rocvich Rocnch ]\T uschm ,
CHUNGTU ROYAL MONASTERY NEAR S A SKY A
TIBET
where is the castle? For a long time we fail to recognize the
bulky mass on the distant rock as a castle. Really this structure
is placed so high that it merges into the rock. Dzong pen, the
chief of the castle, is a trifle more friendly than the others.
Far higher than the dzong on the opposite rocks is a monas-
tery, in which now only eight lamas remain. But in this very
monastery is the courtyard mentioned in the “Letters of the
Mahatmas.” There was the school mentioned by the Mahatmas,
but now this school does not exist. But the old people still re-
member that here was a “religious school.” And they remember
the “tall Azaras” from India.
The last crossing — Sepo-la. This pass is easier than the others.
We pass the turquoise lake, where the river Lachen has its source.
The torrents begin as modest streams which, after two days of
travel, seethe and become impassable without a bridge. Here is
the first aroma of the healing Balu, and the first low cedars.
Before us are whole forests of rhododendrons in bloom.
Zoji La, Khardong La, Karaul Devan, Sasser Pass, Dabsang
Pass, Karakorum Pass, Suget Pass, Sanju Pass, Urtu Kashkariin
Daban, Ulan Daban, Chahariin Daban, Khentu Pass, Naiji La,
Kukushili Pass, Dungbudra Pass, Tang La, Kamrong La, Ta-
sang La, Lamsi Pass, Naptra La, Tamaker Pass, Shentsa Pass,
Laptse nagri Pass, Tsag La, Lam ling Pass, Pong chen La,
Dong La, Sang mo La, Kyegong La, Tsug chung La, Gya La,
Urang La, Sharu La, Galung La, Sepo La; these are the thirty-
five passes, each from 14,000 to 21,000 feet high, which are crossed.
Of all our camels, two crossed the Himalayas. One is from
Bulugun (northern Mongolia), the other from Tsaidam. They
will be the first to reach Gangtok, the capital of Sikhim. We will
present them to the Maharajah of Sikhim. Along the entire
[381]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
way from Nagchu to Gangtok the camels attract crowds of curi-
ous onlookers because these “animals” have never been seen here.
From Lhasa to Calcutta, camels are not known. In Thangu,
a house already awaited us: a dak-bungalow and even forgotten
magazines of 1927. For more than a year we existed entirely
without news of the outer world.
The fairy tale of the waterfalls! A whole symphony is in the
patterned streams. For several days we descend. Nearby we
pass all species of the vegetable world. Finally, palms appear
and near the river pass two leopards, vividly yellow with thick
warm black spots. They appear, greet us cordially and go away.
All already is seen: the black-and-white bears of Chang-thang,
antelopes and argali, the stonelike rams with curved horns ; finally
the well-decked leopards.
• • • • •
A modest Finnish mission is in La-chen. Kind Miss Kronquist,
self-exiled in solitude among the rocks, relates tales about the
avalanches which threaten all Sikhim. Is it possible that on the
southern side of the Himalayas continues the same deadening
process which has crumbled the peaks of Chang-thang? In-
spired by the noise of the current of Lachen which sprang up
and became stronger under our very eyes, we recall Imatra and
Finland and the sympathetic Relander and Aksel Gallen-Kallela.
Here are the same blue distances as in Finland.
We make our final calculations regarding the caravan. The
American equipment withstood all trials. The Belber trunks
crossed from America for four years through entire Asia, through
all fordings and passes without any damage. The tents from
Abercrombie and Fitch also withstood all gales.
The remaining part of the way to Gangtok was easy. The
hospitable house of the British Resident, Colonel Bailey, greets us.
[382]
TIBET
We tell about our trip. The letters to America are sent off. We
are given a trustworthy sardar to Darjeeling. We shall make
the entire way from Gangtok in one day. But we will have to
change automobiles three times, because on the Tista the bridge
was recently washed away and it is necessary to change. It
means three automobiles and ten miles on horseback in one day
— a steep ascent from Tista through Peshok.
It is necessary to collect and compile all the expedition material.
This may take a long time. George, the Doctor, V., and P. K.
are also preparing their notes. Our fellow-travelers will quickly
scatter — one to China, one to Italy, one to Australia. Every-
where they will recall the inexpressible beauty of the Himalayas.
Our way led from the Himalayas, and back to them. Majestic
is Karakorum and the icy kingdom of Sasser. Beautiful is Kwen
Lun. Fantastic is T’ian Shan — celestial mountains. Broad in
sweep is Altai. Decorative is Nan shang. Austere is Angar
Dakchin. But all these are only the preface to the unutterable
grandeur of the Himalayas.
In the Himalayas was crystallized the great Vedanta. In the
Himalayas Buddha became exalted in spirit. The very air of
the Himalayas is penetrated with spiritual tension — the true
Maitreya Sanga.
• • • • •
Our friend in Sikhim, the lama, tells us that during the winter
he had heard that large detachments of cavalry were standing
before Nagchu; such information caused a great deal of anxiety.
This proved to be only one of the rumors current about our-
selves. During these years rumor made me a “French and
American King,” “Commander of a Russian Corps,” and “King
of all Buddhists.” I succeeded in dying twice. I succeeded in
being simultaneously in Siberia, America and Tibet. According
[383]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
to the words of Mongols of Tsaidam I carried on a war with the
Amban of Sining. And according to the words of the Taotai
of Khotan I brought a small cannon which would, in ten min-
utes, destroy entire Khotan and its 100,000 inhabitants. We be-
came accustomed to all this and now are no longer astonished
by “authentic” rumors. The Mongols firmly remember the
“Ameri Khan”: Thus the American has been visualized as a
kind of warrior. Fairy tales about ourselves from Lhasa were
related to us, in which we could only identify ourselves with
difficulty.
It is wondrous and strange to pass through the same places
where the Mahatmas passed. Here was the school founded by
Them. Two days’ travel from Saga-dzong there was one of the
Ashrams — not far from the Brahmaputra. Here the Mahatma
stopped, hastening on an undeferrable mission. And here stood
the modest blue tent. Now when Europe argues about the
existence of the Mahatmas, when the Hindus are significantly
silent about Them, many people in the expanses of Asia not
only know the Mahatmas, not only have seen Them, but know
many actual evidences of Their deeds and appearances. Always
awaited, the Mahatmas unexpectedly created in the spaces of Asia
a great special existence. When it was necessary, They mani-
fested themselves. And when necessary, They passed unnotice-
ably as ordinary travelers. They do not write Their Names
upon the stones, but the hearts of those who know, guard These
Names, stronger than the rocks. Why suspect a fairy tale, imag-
ination, invention, when in living forms the knowledge of the
Mahatmas is impressed?
In haste, moved by idle curiosity, you will not understand
even a simple chemical experiment. Will those, who in futile
conversation discuss the question of Mahatmas, achieve anything?
Will their empty curiosity be satisfied? How many people there
[384]
TIBET
are who would love to receive a letter from the Mahatmas!
But would it change their lives? It would provide a moment
of astonishment and confusion and then again everything would
return to the old routine, leaving no trace.
Often we are astonished why people who know the Mahatmas
are so widely different in their social positions. But why was
Boehme a shoemaker? Are the dimensions of consciousness
measured only by outward distinctions? The works of the Ma-
hatmas and their instructions to the pupils, are related in a
literature which is not nearly as limited as it seems to those who
do not know it.
The average scientist talks about Mahatmas as pure illusion.
These are the scientists who have never seen Mahatmas. But
Sir William Crooks or Sir Oliver Lodge would not speak
so. Vivekananda, who was always upholding the rationalism
of observation, knew Mahatmas. Many Hindus know Them.
But they safeguard Their Names to such an extent that they
are even ready to deny Their existence in order not to betray,
not to reveal.
Not to betray! What a charm is in this understanding of the
Guru in the steps of ascent.
But many are knocking at the doors of the great science. Often
they do not acknowledge it, even are angered if some one asks
them about it. How many of the younger generation want sin-
cerely to start correspondence with a Guru! They try to find
a real teacher. Everybody knocks in his own way. And how
many of them find disillusionment because they knock at the
wrong door, or they lacked sufficient energy and necessary deter-
mination to receive a true answer.
“What laboratory could analyze those who approach the tech-
nical methods of knowledge?” Yes, verily, it must be a labora-
tory where labor and perseverance and fearlessness are the keys
[385 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
to the gates. In a sound rationalism, in a true and fearless ma-
terialism grow the wings of spirit, the wings of consciousness.
We are not to be isolated from life — not destructive, but creative
— such is the teaching of the Mahatmas. They speak about the
scientific foundations of existence. They direct one toward the
conquest of energy. They speak of those victories of labor which
shall transform life into a constant festival. Everything sug-
gested by them is not ephemeral and illusory, but real, and per-
tains to the most all-embracing study of possibilities, which are
suggested to us by life, without superstition, without prejudice.
The true followers of the Mahatmas are not sectarians or hypo-
crites. On the contrary they are most vital people; they conquer
in life. Not for long do they go into the mountains to purify
themselves by the emanations of prana. In the darkest places
of Tibet they know something about the Mahatmas, they have
some recollections and legends. But for the moment their atten-
tion is directed to the prophecies about the return of the Tashi
Lama in his full glory.
Despite all, the straight road — Mongolia, Tsaidam, Tibet and
the Himalayas — is crossed: first on the trail of Ja lama; then in
Tsaidam in a new direction, then through the dzongs of Tibet to
the mountain passes of the “abodes of snows.”
There is something of predestination in the dying of old
Tibet. The wheel of the law is turned. The mystery is gone.
Tibet has none to guard; and none guards Tibet. The exclusive-
ness of its position as guardian of Buddhism no longer belongs
to Tibet. Because Buddhism, according to the Commands of
the Blessed One, becomes a universal possession. There is no
need of superstition for the deep teaching. Prejudices are inimical
to the search for truth.
The first image of the Blessed One was received by Tibet
from Nepal and China — received only in the seventh century,
[386]
TIBET
more than one thousand years after the Blessed One lived and
taught; received after the time when in India the brilliant
literature of the followers of Buddhism had been already col-
lected. The first image was received only after the beautiful
Viharas, before which the Dukang of Tibet stand as poor younger
brothers, were rising in all parts of Asia. Now, when there
begins to be concern about the revival of true Buddhism, this
wave passes by Tibet.
Let us consider the Black Magic of Tibet. Let us recall the
revived corpses, the celebrated Rolang-resurrection — which is
nothing but a crude form of vampirism. Let us recall the wan-
dering spirits who kill and do all manner of evil; and they are
often the spirits of lamas. Let us recall all sorts of obsessions,
how, under evil influences, people are completely changed and
temporarily fall into actual insanity. Let us recall evil conjura-
tions and invocations with which the lamas arm themselves to
frighten the ignorant people. Let us recall the suicidal magic
daggers, dark fortune-telling, spells, were-wolves, entities which
have assumed the appearance of animals; and all kinds of inven-
tions of an evil will. First of all, such dark practices of lamas
do not give very good evidence of their uprightness. Second,
the sorcerers of the Coast of Malabar perform the entire black
necromancy much more powerfully. They are known, feared,
but no one worships them and they are not regarded as sacred
personages. Malabar “miracles” antedate Tibetan magic.
Many authors who have written about Tibet have called it
the miracle of miracles. But this title could refer only to old
Tibet or is due to the misconception of those writers, who have
been hypnotized by tradition. Truly, one could rightly call a
school founded by Mahatmas a miracle. But for many years
such a school has not existed. Now individual Tibetan lamas
possess the power to produce low forms of materialization,
[387]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
levitation, manifestations of will, clairvoyance and clairaudience.
It is the greatest test of the lamas if when they doubt about you,
you demand of them, “Ask your oracle what I am thinking at
present and what intention I have.” Then at once they become
confused.
In the mountains some astonishing manifestations actually
occur, but they have nothing to do with the lamas. We recollect
the incident of the remarkable fire in our tent, which was re-
peated in Chang-thang. We recall the wave of heat amidst the
cruel frosts. We recall many manifestations of the higher en-
ergies. Truly it is remarkable just to pass through those places
where until recently there were Ashrams.
It would be absurd to condemn the entire population of Tibet.
The lamas again may become educated. Again an enlightened
government may appear. And people again may become regen-
erate. Much of that which appears to us as fallen “has not as yet
risen.”
In the teaching of the Blessed One there are practical indica-
tions about the whole routine of life. It is very easy to know
and apply them. But now those who have desecrated the high
teaching, must understand that their criminal actions are con-
demned and cannot continue.
• • • • •
Tibet bids us farewell with sad news. Our three Torguts,
Ochir, Dorje and Manji, forty miles from Gyantse, were attacked
by Tibetans. Two Torguts were killed and the third wounded.
They were robbed of their money and possessions. Hearing this,
a well-born Tibetan says, “Formerly the bandits were in the
north of Tibet, but they infest the entire country now.” Thus
speak the good Tibetans with hopeless gestures. And how many
decent Tibetans and learned lamas must suffer because of the
present conditions.
There was another story that our Mongols reached Lhasa, but
[388]
TIBET
there they were seized and thrown into the Tibetan jail. Any-
how, our poor Torguts experienced trouble.
Another rumor: Poor Tzering, our Mongol, has suffered
greatly. On the way from Nagchu to Lhasa he was robbed and
now is begging in the Lhasa bazaar. Our Buryat lamas already
dream of leaving Tibet. Jangin, Lama, Lama Tashi and Kon-
chok safely reached home in Sharagolchi, because they returned
back from Nagchu at once.
The Tibetans who have come to Sikhim say: “Now comes
the year of the dragon. The past year was the year of the tiger
and after that will be the year of the sheep. Will it not be easier
then?” — “According to the prophecy, the Tashi Lama will not
return to Tibet before three years.” — Much is being rumored.
We are overtaken by our lama from Kharching. He thought
of remaining in Lhasa ten years but stayed only three months.
With him three other learned lamas from Tashi lhunpo are
traveling.
News from Sikhim. The monastery in Ghum is growing.
Some new structures are being added. The walls are covered
with frescoes. The monasteries in Kalimpong and Kurseong are
also improving. Geshe Rinpoche is helping everywhere. He
erects images of Maitreya. In Ghum is the same abbot. Our
artist, Geshe Lhariba, from Kham, is working as before. All is
friendly and good.
I have been asked, “How shall you speak of Tibet after your
experiences?” Truly I shall praise what is full of light and
shall condemn v/hat is obscured in darkness. I shall not forget
that the Tashi Lama has aroused general reverence for himself —
he who is the spiritual ruler of Tibet and of whom only good
is heard. Everywhere the Tibetans themselves say of their coun-
[389]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
try, “The customs of Panchen Rinpoche (Tashi Lama) were far
different.” And they await with eagerness the fulfilment of the
prophecy about his return when he will be the sole head of the
Tibet and the true Teaching will again flourish. Truly, one has
the feeling that if the Tashi Lama were now in Tibet again,
things would be different!
Thus we distinguish two Tibets: One is the Tibet of official-
dom— of those officials of whom the Tibetans themselves assert
that their hearts are blacker than coal and harder than stone.
These are the ones who reflect so much prejudice and violence
and falsehood, who desecrate art and petrify learning with de-
generacy.
But we also discern another Tibet, even though it is smaller
in numbers. This is the Tibet of the few educated lamas and
of an even smaller number of enlightened laymen. This is the
Tibet which guards the essence of the Teaching and aspires
towards enlightenment. It is the Tibet of its spiritual leaders.
It is of course not enigmatic which Tibet is closer to our con-
sciousness— the enlightened ones we value, and may the obscured
and corrupt ones disappear in their own darkness!
In letters from America, friends have expressed their regret
that the actions of Tibet have urged the necessity of such strong
criticisms. But Truth is not blindness; on the contrary it must
be far-sighted. Moreover, a small and valuable minority may
yet produce greater results than the dying, decomposed majority.
The Himalayas and Sikhim enclose Tibet. Nowhere is there
such glimmer, such spiritual satiety as amidst these precious
snows. Nowhere is there such qualifying expressions as in the
speech of Sikhim — to everything is added the word “heroism.”
Man-heroes; women-heroes ; rock-heroes; trees-heroes ; water-
fall-heroes; eagle-heroes. Here to Sikhim came great hermits
because where could one, in two days’ travel, ascend from tropical
[390 ]
SHEKAR DZONG (NEAR SHIGATSE)
TIBET
vegetation up to eternal" snow. All grades of consciousness are
here revealed. Friendly is Sikhim. Friendly is the Maharajah
of Sikhim. Friendly is the Resident. Friendly is Laden La.
And again we traverse the sacred valley of Tashi ding, as a trove
of mystery and treasures. This is considered a remarkable place
by all Sikhim and Bhutan. And the fine old abbot of Tashi-
ding is still alive but has aged and does not descend from his
sacred mountain. And again the proximity of great India.
Again the Hindu sings: “How may I speak of the creator him-
self, if I know the incomparable, inexpressible beauty of Hima-
layas ?”
It is told in the prophecies how the new era shall manifest
itself: “First will begin an unprecedented war of all nations.
Afterward brother shall rise against brother. Oceans of blood
shall flow. And the people shall cease to understand one another.
They shall forget the meaning of the word, Teacher. But just
then shall the Teachers appear and in all corners of the world
shall be heard the true teaching. To this word of truth shall
the people be drawn, but those who are filled with darkness
and ignorance shall set obstacles. As a diamond glows the light
on the tower of the Lord of Shambhala. One stone on his ring
is worth more than all the world’s treasure. Even those who
by accident help the Teachings of Shambhala will receive in
return a hundredfold. Already many warriors of the teaching
of truth are reincarnated. Only a few years shall elapse before
every one shall hear the mighty steps of the Lord of the New era.
And one can already perceive unusual manifestations and en-
counter unusual people. Already they open the gates of knowl-
edge and ripened fruits are falling from the trees.”
Lama Rinpoche knows that on the north side of Kinchen-
junga, there lies a cave. Very narrow is the entrance to it,
[39i ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
but it broadens and brings one into a whole city. The high
priest knows many things, and asks not to speak of them until
the appointed time. The consciousness of Geshe is profound.
He possesses some clairvoyance. As if emerging from a trance
he talks of the most unexpected actions and persons who are
at a great distance. When we were freezing at Chang-thang
and E. I. was ill, he unexpectedly said to those near him:
“How difficult it is for her! How she is suffering!” So we
were later told. Using the old custom of the high lamas, Geshe
does not lie down to sleep but rests in a seated posture. Geshe
knows about Shambhala and its complete significance. He takes
care to revive the teachings.
One more image of Shambhala, the Mandala of Shambhala
will reveal to those who know some hints of reality. On the
top is Yi-dam as the sign of elemental power, and a figure of
that Tashi Lama who wrote the very secret book the Path of
Shambhala. In the center of the image the snow mountains
form a circle. You can recognize three white borders. In the
center is a seeming valley with many edifices. One can dis-
tinguish two plans, as though they were the plans of towers.
On the tower is He Himself, Whose Light glows in the pre-
destined time. Below is the powerful legion leading victorious
battle. The victory of the spirit on the great field of life.
The new era of enlightenment is awaited. Each reaches in
his own way. One nearer, one further; one beautifully, one
distortedly; but all are concerned with the same predestined.
It is especially striking to see such consciousness at a time when
not the printed page, but sound itself — the human word — directs
the loft expectation. It is so precious to hear and to repeat.
The Motherland of Gessar Khan, Ladak, knows that the time
of the regeneration has come. Khotan remembers the Signs of
[392]
TIBET
Maitreya over the ancient Stupa. The Kalmucks in Karashar are
awaiting the coming manifestation of the Chalice of Buddha.
On Altai the Oyrots renounce Shamanism and are singing new
chants to the Awaited White Burkhan. The Messenger of the
White Burkhan, Oirot, already rides throughout the world.
The Mongols await the appearance of the Ruler of the World
and prepare the Dukang of Shambhala. On Chang-thang they
extol Gessar Khan and whisper about the hallowed borders of
Shambhala. On the Brahmaputra they know about the Ashrams
of Mahatmas and remember the wonderful Azaras. The Jews
await the Messiah at the Bridge. The Moslems await Muntazar.
In Isfahan the White Horse is already saddled. The Christians
of Saint Thomas await the great Advent and wear hidden signs.
The Hindus know the Kalki Avatar. And the Chinese at New
Year light the fires before the image of Gessar Khan, ruler of
the World. Rigden Japo, the Ruler, is fleeting over the desert,
achieving his predestined path. A blind one may ask, “Is it so?
Is there no exaggeration in it? Perhaps some fragments of sur-
vivals are taken as beliefs of the future.”
It means that he who questions has never been in the East.
If you once were upon these sites; if you traversed many thou-
sands of miles; if you yourself have spoken to many people, then
you know the reality of what is related. You shall understand
why, of these sacred matters, one speaks only in the stillness of
the evening, in quiet penetrating tones. Why, if some one enters,
do all become silent? But if you say to them that they may
continue the conversation in the presence of the guest your words
will be met with a reverent bow. And it is not you who receives
the silent significant bow but the Great Maitreya Himself.
[393 1
GLOSSARY
Part I
Lan\a : The ancient name of Ceylon; described in the Hindu Epic of
Ramayana as of great magnificence, the habitation of the demons.
The Ramayana is the Epic poem of Rama and his war against the
Rakshasas or demons and giants, when the monkeys, led by Hanuman,
were his allies.
Hinayana and Mahayana, the two Buddhist schools, respectively the
“Smaller Vehicle” and “Greater Vehicle.” The former is the School of
the Southern Buddhists, the latter is the Northern School, but spread in
Tibet, Mongolia, China and Japan.
Hanuman, Rama and Ravana: Characters of the Ramayana. Hanuman,
king of Monkeys, aids Rama, hero of the epic, in his war upon
Ravana, king of the demons who has carried away Sita, Rama’s wife
and thus precipitated the great war. A great analogy between this
epic and the Iliad may be seen.
Vedas: The revelations or scriptures of the Hindus. The Vedic writings
are divided into two great parts — the exoteric, namely, the “division
of actions and works” and “divisions of knowledge.” In the latter
are included the Upanishads.
Mahabharata: The Great Epic of India, in which the Bhagarad Gita is
incorporated.
Sahib: Master, in Hindustani.
Babu: A literate man, in Hindustani.
Hatha-Y oga: The lower form of Yoga practices. A man who uses physical
means for spiritual self-development.
Stoc\zund: A small suburb near Stockholm.
Stupas: A monument, conical in shape erected over the relics of Buddha,
of Arhats, or other great men.
Kurgan: A Turki word designating a burial mound in Russia.
Tnmurti: The Trinity. In modern conception Brahma, creator; Vishnu,
preserver, and Shiva, destroyer. In ancient tradition, Indra, Agni and
[395 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Surya, or Air, Fire and the Sun. A vast philosophy underlies this
symbolism.
Vedanta: A mystic system of philosophy developing from the efforts of
philosophers to interpret the Upanishads.
Advaita: A Vedanta non-dualist sect.
Dalai-Lama: The secular ruler of Tibet, living in the Potala at Lhasa.
Sweeper: One belonging to the Sudras, the untouchables, or lowest of the
four castes.
Sherpa: A Tibetan tribe of Nepal.
Kshatriya: The second of the four castes into which the Hindus were
originally divided. This is the warrior tribe.
Arya Samaj: A modern theistic sect of India.
Kham and Golo\: Districts in Tibet.
Maitreya: The Buddha of the future, who incarnates in himself all the
hopes of the Buddhist world, from the island of Ceylon to the
lamaseries of Siberia.
Lama: Priest of the monasteries.
Shambhala: The country believed by Asia to be the dwelling of the
coming King of the World and his cohorts.
Atisha: Founder of a school of Buddhism in the eleventh century. True
predecessor of Tsong-kha-pa, founder of the Yellow Sect, Tibet.
Milarepa: Tibetan poet-mystic (1038-1112 a.d.). The Tibetan Orpheus.
Gopis: Shepherdesses, the devotees of Krishna.
Lei and Koupava: Mythical characters from the opera “Snowmaiden” by
Rimsky-Korsakoff. Characters from ancient Russian lore.
Shamans: Tartar or Mongolian priest-magicians of the old Bon religion
of Central Asia. They are found mostly in Siberia and the border-
lands.
Sadhu: A saintly man.
Mem-sahib: Madam or mistress in Hindustani.
Lemuria: The continent which according to the esoteric doctrines preceded
Atlantis.
Kaftans: An oriental coatlike garment.
Tao Te Ching: Indicating the Path; the “Book of the Perfectibility of
Nature,” written by the great Chinese philosopher Lao-Tze. Tao is
the symbol of the Absolute, the Infinite.
Bhagavad Gita: The Lord’s Song. The Epic of Krishna, one part of the
Mahabharata which contains the two great Epics of India.
[396] '
GLOSSARY
Upanishads: Part of the Esoteric division of the Vedas.
Nagis: Snakes, or snake-worshipers.
Tashi-Lama: Religious head of Tibet who made his home in the Tashi-
lhunpo Monastery in Shigatse. For the first time in history he has
fled Tibet thus fulfilling ancient prophecies.
Potala: The Palace of the Dalai Lama in Lhasa.
Tara: The principal feminine deity of Buddhism. Symbolizing the
Goddess-Mother. The Merciful One, protector of mankind.
Puranas: Collection of cosmogonic writings supposed to have been com-
posed by Vyasa, author of the Mahabharata.
Vishnu: The Preserver, second personage of the Hindu Trimurti.
Chintamani: The Sacred Stone counted among the great Blessings of the
world.
Arhat: A member of the Buddhist order who attained the fourth stage
of the path toward Nirvana. He is no more subject to rebirth.
Kabala: The hidden wisdom of the Hebrew Rabbis of the Middle Ages.
It was combined into a theology after the capture of the Jews by
Babylon.
Sari: The shawl worn by all Hindu women.
Part II
Senge: Literally, Lion, a title of Buddha. Here, apparently, the name
given to the ceremonial dances.
Polovtsi: A Tartar Tribe depicted in Borodin’s opera, “Prince Igor,” for
which Roerich has painted the settings.
Jenghis-Khan: Great Mongol conqueror (1162-1227). Considered the
greatest warrior of history.
Khalat: The coatlike garment worn by the Mongols.
Khati\: A ceremonial scarf, given as a reverential offering.
Rungit: A river in Sikhim, a tributary of Tista.
l\on: The religious paintings of Russia.
Wheel of Life: A symbol of the great cycle of life, the progress of the
spirit or self through the lower nature.
Wheel of Eze\iel: Mystic symbol used by the Prophet Ezekiel.
Chandragupta Maurya: The first Buddhist King of India. Grandfather
of Asoka. Began his reign about 322 b.c.
Sergius of Radonega: Most beloved saint of Russia, lived in fifteen century.
[397]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Bogdo-Khan: Religious head of the Mongolian Buddhists, called “Living
Buddha.”
Khutu\htu : One of the highest ranks of Lamas in Mongolia.
Om: A holy invocation regarded as the most sacred syllable.
Kinchenjunga: Sacred mountain in Sikhim.
Baber : Descendant of Timur who invaded India and established the Mogul
Dynasty. (Died in 1530 a.d.)
T 'antra: Books on mystical practices in medieval Hinduism.
Padma Sambhava : Founder of the Red Sect, one of the two great Tibetan
Sects.
T song-\ha-pa: Founder of the Yellow Sect, the second great sect.
Berendeys in “Snowmaiden”: Characters in Rimsky-Korsakoff’s opera.
Red Caps: Members of the sect founded by Padma Sambhava.
Csoma de Koros: A Hungarian traveler and scholar, born 1790.
Sengchen Lama: Incarnate Lama, high priest of Dong-ste monastery near
Gyantse.
Mendang: An elevation of stone on the hilltops, usually facing east, afford-
ing a seat for meditating lamas.
Amrita: The drink of the gods — Elixir of Life.
Rahu: A demon who stole amrita from the gods.
Avalo\iteshvara: The greatest Bodhisattva of Northern Buddhism. The
savior and deliverer. Generally depicted many-armed and many-faced.
Pemayangtse, Dubdi, Tashi-ding, Sanga Choling, Doling: Monasteries in
Sikhim.
Dharmapala: Protector of religion.
King of the World: The Coming Ruler whose great avatar is now expected
by Asia.
Garuda: The bird, steed of Vishnu.
Part III
“Throne of Solomon”: Mountain in Kashmir.
Bon-po: Pre-Buddhist faith of Tibet, based on magic rites.
fehangir: Mogul Emperor, son of Akbar, the Great (1555-1605).
A\bar: The great Mogul Emperor of India, patron of religions, arts and
sciences.
[398]
GLOSSARY
Asvagosha: The greatest Buddhist poet; probably flourished in the first cen-
tury A.D.
Aso\a: King of the Morya Dynasty. Most zealous in spreading Buddhism.
Erected thousands of shrines and sent missionaries throughout the
Eastern world.
“ Sucre du Printemps” : Sacred Rites of Spring, by Igor Stravinsky and
Nicholas Roerich. Considered one of the greatest of modern composi-
tions, composed by collaborated efforts of Stravinsky and Roerich who
gave the libretto based on an ancient spring rite.
Shuya and Kolomna: Ancient Russian cities.
Kremlin: Central fortified section of ancient Russian cities, comprising the
churches, palaces, monasteries and other buildings.
Rostoff, Suzdal, Yaroslavl: Russian cities.
ban-designs: Designs of Persian origin.
Gandhara: The Greek period in Hindu art. Also the ancient province
near Peshawar.
Shah ]ehan: Son of Shah Jehangir.
Aurungzeb: Mogul Emperor, son of Jehan, reigned at the end of the seven-
teenth century.
Mahadeva: Great God, title of Shiva.
Horus: Egyptian God, last of the divine sovereigns of Egypt, said to be
son of Isis and Osiris.
Urceus: The snake, sacred symbol. Around the disk of Osiris and on the
cap of Osiris and other deities.
Se\meth: The war goddess of Egypt.
Senusert: One of the Egyptian Pharaohs.
Djins: Elementals. Nature spirits.
Valhalla: Odin’s hall. The final abode of fallen Norse heroes.
Fibula: Breast plate.
]alnil{: Old Russian graveyard.
Hoopoe: Bird (Upupa epops).
Burlaps: Russian boatsman.
Hookah: A pipe with a long flexible tube.
Setara: Stringed instrument.
Saazes: Kashmiri stringed instruments.
Turfan: A district in Chinese Turkestan.
[399 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Part IV
Indra, Agm, Surya: The ancient Vedic Trimurti or Trinity.
Kashyapa: Chief priest of the Jatilas, sect of fire worshipers. After his
conversion all his followers entered the Buddhist order.
Rajagriha, Vaisali, Patna: Seats of Buddhist councils.
Alara Kalama : A renowned sage who was for a while Buddha’s teacher.
UddaJ^a Ramaputta: A Brahmin ascetic who was for some years the Guru
of Gautama Buddha.
Uruvela: A site near the forest in which Buddha spent six years of medi-
tation.
N diranjana: A river in which Buddha bathed after renouncing the path of
bodily suffering as a means to knowledge.
Vaishas: The third of the Hindu castes.
Pali: The ancient language of Magadha in which the Buddhist scriptures
are written.
Eusebius: Known as the Father of Ecclesiastical history. Born probably in
Palestine about 265.
Mithra: An ancient Persian deity, a sun-god. Deeply connected with the
highest occultism, the tenets of which were expounded in the Mith-
raic mysteries.
Clement of Alexandria: Church father and voluminous writer living
between the second and third centuries.
Cyril of Alexandria: Nephew of Theophilus of Alexandria during the fifth
century. Responsible for the murder of the girl philosopher, Hypatia.
Jerome: Church father, regarded as one of the most learned. Lived from
337 to 420 A.D.
Origen: The most learned of all the Church fathers and all early Christian
writers. Lived 185 to 254 a.d.
Metropolite: Highest church official in the Greek Catholic Church.
White Bur\han: The name given to the Coming Buddha among the
Altaian tribes of Siberia.
Fez: Turkish skull cap.
Tubetei\a : Tartar skull cap.
Part V
Schaitans: Devils.
Afridi: Natives of the district around Peshawar.
[400]
GLOSSARY
Baltis: Natives of Baltistan — a district north of Kashmir.
Dras: A site on the road from Kashmir to Ladak.
Dards: The people inhabiting the valleys adjacent to Gilgit — Moham-
medans.
Amban: Manchu title for a magistrate.
Tsai dam: District in the north of Tibet.
Lada\is: Natives of Ladak, Little Tibet.
Astoris: Natives of the Astor district of Kashmir.
Yar\andis: Natives of Yarkand.
Stelles: Prehistoric stone slab.
Fa-hsieti: Chinese pilgrim of the fifth century a.d.
Gessar-Khan: A name of the great Coming One. Hero of a great Mongolo-
Tibetan epic.
Lamayura: A monastery site near Leh.
Maulbec\: A monastery site near Leh.
Manjusri: One of the principal Bodhisatvas, Prince of Knowledge.
Kuan Yin: Chinese Goddess of Mercy.
Lhamo: Tibetan deity of destruction.
Maha\ala: Deity of Thunder.
Bruguma: Wife of Gessar-Khan.
Sanyasin: Hindu ascetic who has reached the highest mystic knowledge.
E. I.: Helena Ivanovna Roerich — wife of Professor Roerich.
Dr. Franc\e: Dr. Herman Francke, renowned traveler.
Assur: A city in Assyria, ancient seat of a library from which earliest
known tablets were excavated.
Ordoss: A district in the southernmost part of Mongolia.
Buriat: Mongol tribe living in Transbakalia.
Gobi: The Mongolian desert.
Orion: A constellation especially characterized by the three central stars.
Great Bear: A constellation.
Altai: The mountainous region of Siberia — a range of mountains continu-
ing into Mongolia.
Beluha: The highest peak of Russian Altai.
Ghum: Monastery near Darjeeling.
Nagchu: A district north of Lhasa.
Druid: Pre-Christian faith of the Celtic tribes.
Gelong: A full-consecrated lama.
[401 ]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
Berendeyev\a: Land of Berendey; reference is made here to the village
of Berendey — out of the opera, “Snowmaiden.”
Shayo\: A tributary of the Indus.
Boyars: Old Russian nobleman — state counselors.
Part VI
Zorawar: Leader of a Dogra force which invaded western Tibet from
Kashmir and plundered the monasteries.
Apocrypha: Writings having pretension to the character of the sacred
scripture or received by certain sects but excluded from the canon.
Evangel of the Ebionites: Sect of early church of second to fourth cen-
turies, believing in Messianic character of Christ but not his divinity.
Epiphany: Bishop of Constantine born about 310. Teacher and friend of
Jerome and opposed Origen in his numerous writings.
Irenceus: One of the early Christian fathers.
Dul^ar: A female deity corresponding to the Tara — the Mother of the
World.
Nubra: River in the Nubra district of Kashmir.
Territ: A site on the Nubra River north of Leh.
Chorten: A stupa, in Tibetan; a shrine over relics.
Moraine: A line of rocks and gravel at the edge and base of glaciers.
Martand: Temple three miles east of Islamabad — probably founded be-
tween 370-500 A.D.
Sassar Sarai: A camping place beyond Sasser Pass.
Serai: An encampment or inn.
Caravanserai: A stopping place for the caravan.
Runes: The Runic language and characters are the mystery or sacerdotal
tongue and alphabet of the ancient Scandinavians.
Bogatyr: Knight, in Russian.
Kirghiz: A nomad race widely scattered through Central Asia, of Moham-
medan faith.
K’uen lun: A mountain range crossing northern India and Tibet.
Ko\yar: A small oasis in foothills south of Kargalik.
Sarts: Tribes from eastern Russian Turkestan.
Ya\htan: A small leather-covered wooden box.
Mazar: Tomb of holy men or saints.
A\hun: A reader of the Koran — a title indicating learning.
[402]
GLOSSARY
Aul: Mongol village (Tartar village).
Guma: A site between Khotan and Kashgar.
Dastarhhan: A food-offering to a person of high position.
Kluchino: A village in the Tver government, Russia.
Nijni-Novgorod Fair: Far-famed peasant fair of Russia.
Ari\: Irrigation channel.
Taf^la Ma\an: The great desert covering central portion of Sinkiang where
buried cities have been traced.
Peshawar: A city in the northwest frontier province of India.
Kulan: A wild ass (Asihus Kyang).
Barchans: Desert dunes.
Yamen: Chinese public office.
Be\: Minor official of Chinese Turkestan.
Part VII
A\sa\al: Head man, or elder.
Sven Hedin: A Swedish traveler in Asia.
W. Filchner: The well-known German explorer of Tibet.
Prjevals\y: Russian explorer, who explored Central Asia.
Kosloff: Eminent Russian scientist and explorer, now in Central Asia.
Kucha: An oasis on the northern trade-route of Chinese Turkestan.
Sutra: A sacred book.
Karashahr — Karashar: An important site south of Urumchi.
Sir Charles Bell: British political officer for Sikhim and Bhutan. In 1921
conducted a diplomatic mission to Lhasa.
Sa\ya: A Kshatriya clan, which occupied a territory in the Nepal Terai,
from which Buddha sprang.
Sir Aurel Stein: Eminent archaeologist.
Sir Marshall: Sir John Marshall, Director General of Archaeology in India.
A\su: An oasis on the northern route of Chinese Turkestan.
Tun-huang: An oasis of western Kansu.
Kansu: Province of China, south of Lower Mongolia.
Pelliot: Professor Paul Pelliot, eminent French sinologist.
Vihara: A Buddhist monastery.
Taels: Chinese currency.
Taotai: Chinese official.
Lao Tzin: A contemporary Chinese philosopher and writer.
[403 ]
Bal\h: A city of Afghanistan.
Easter Islands: Islands of the Polynesian group in the Pacific.
Bezbojni\: A Russian newspaper dedicated to Atheism.
Tao: The name of the philosophy of Lao Tze.
Part VIII
Bey: A Turkish title of respect.
Mafa: A carriage in Chinese Turkestan.
Pirosch\i: Pastry in Russia.
Ko\ochni\: The Russian women’s native headdress.
SadJ{o: A leading character in Rimsky-Korsakoff’s opera, “Sadko,” of
undersea life.
hangar: An inn.
Koshma: Felt.
Diaghileff: Director of the Imperial Russian Ballet.
Bolm: A premier dancer in the Imperial Russian Ballet.
To\har: A people spoken of by Fa-hsien and other pilgrims; once said
to have inhabited the district around Kuchar, now vanished.
Uigurs: A Turki tribe conquering Turkestan and Dzungaria in 744 and
maintaining an independent kingdom in valleys of T’ian Shan till
1000 a.d. when they migrated westward.
Kishlaf^s: Winter settlement.
Doroga: An official in Turki.
Tor guts: A Mongol clan which settled in Russia, later emigrating into
Sinkiang.
P’o-t’ai: Flat tower of clay marking distances on the Sinkiang roads. The
average distances between them are about 2V2 miles, although these
constantly vary.
Li: A Chinese measure of distance, approximately 485 yards.
Barkjians: Sand mounds.
Buran: Hurricane.
T series: Mobilized soldiers.
Tamasha: Entertainment, a spectacle show.
Kalmucks: A Mongolian tribe which migrated into Russia and Chinese
Turkestan.
Arba\eshs, Majakeshs: Owners respectively of arbas — carts, and mafas —
carriages.
[404]
Kora\eshs: Owners of horses.
Troy \a: Carriage with three horses.
Ulus: People, tribe.
Part IX
Yurtas: The native tents of the Mongols.
Arshin: Russian measure.
Hunghutze: The Chinese robber bands operating along Manchuria; chiefly
escaped criminals.
Bogdo-ul: The “Holy Mountain,” south of Urumchi, capital of Sinkiang.
Kuac\a: An ancient Russian headgear.
Kuindjy: One of Russia’s great artists, under whom Professor Roerich
studied.
Ya\ub-Be\: Leader of a Mohammedan rebellion against the Chinese in
1865.
Tanguts: Branch of Mongol-Tartars spread in Central and Eastern Siberia.
Tripita\a: The name of the Buddhist canon; composed of three divisions.
Ribhvas: Planetary spirits.
Soma: Moon.
Rig-Veda: the first of the four Vedas or scriptures of the Hindus.
Meru, or Sumeru: The name of a mountain said to be in the center of the
Earth and according to the East, the abode of the gods.
Novgorod: Literally, new city.
Ultus: Kalmuck villages.
T’ian Shan: Meaning Celestial mountains.
Marral: Deer found in the Altai region, the horns of which are powdered
and made into medicine.
Tzagan Khutu\hta: Khutukhta is the highest rank of lama; Tzagan is
white. This refers to a holy lama.
Alus: Villages.
Yerma\: A robber chieftain who, outlawed by the Tzar Ivan the Terrible,
went beyond the Ural and conquered a new territory. He was drowned
shortly after, in 1584.
Kolcha\: A general of the “white forces.”
A\-Dorje: Buddhist symbol of the thunderbolt.
Du\ang: Chief Temple of a lamaist monastery.
Obo: A cairn of stones which crowns the summit of a pass.
[405]
ALTAI-HIMALAYA
N orbu-rinpoche: Precious jewel.
Panaga : Tribe of northeastern Tibet.
Horpa: Natives of Hor, northeastern Tibet.
Dzong-pons: Head of an administrative district.
Dzong: Seat of the government of the district.
Menhirs: Megalithic stone monuments.
Da-yig-letter: Official letter sent to the authorities announcing the arrival
of a person of high standing.
Kal\i Avatar: Kalki incarnation of Vishnu.
Sho: Copper coin in Tibet (ten sho make one ngusang).
Part X— XII
Shambatyon: A river mentioned in the Old Testament and said to have
mystic significance.
Katun: A river in the Altai mountains.
Bya: A river in the Altai mountains.
Ails: Villages.
Oyrots: Known as the messenger of the White Burkhan or coming Buddha.
The belief in Oirot has spread in the last generation. Within this
time a woman of the Shaman tribe, perceived in the mountains a
vision of Oirot, a giant white figure on horseback, who bade her
tell her people that they must renounce their magic rites and await
in purity the coming of the White Burkhan. Reference is here made
to this legend.
Tchud: Derived from the word “wonder” — and attributed to a people.
Belovodye: Literally white waters. Attributed to the name of a place.
Panteleon: Saint and healer who gathered herbs and healed through
these homely remedies.
Kabarga: The musk ram of Altai.
A\-\em: Meaning literally white water.
Baldur: The Giver of all Good. A figure in Scandinavian mythology.
A\-Dorje: Buddhist symbol of the thunderbolt.
Du\ang: A chief Temple of a lamaist Monastery.
Obo: A cairn of stones which crowns the summit of a pass.
N orbu-rinpoche: Precious jewel.
Panaga: Tribe of northeastern Tibet.
Horpa: Natives of Hor, northeastern Tibet.
[406]
GLOSSARY
Dzong-pons: Head of an administrative district.
Dzong: Seat of the government of the district.
Menhirs: Megalithic stone monuments.
Da-yig-letter: Official letter sent to the authorities announcing the arrival
of a person of high standing.
Kal\i Avatar: Kalki incarnation of Vishnu.
Sho: Copper coin in Tibet (ten sho make one ngusang).
THE END
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